#I love how the danish language looks

[anonymous-dentist]

Hej! Jeg hvde egentlig ikke tænkt mig at skrive noget men nu når det er international sprog dag (?) kunne jeg ikke helt modstå.

Jeg fandt dig gennem Breaking Dawn og den historie alene har gjort mig til en fuld-tids guapoduo fan. Du skriver fantastisk og jeg ELSKER hvor gennemtænkt alt er, hvordan karakterene er skrevet og beskrevet og hvor forvirrende nogle dele er indtil det lige pludselig alt sammen giver mening.

Meget kærlighed fra Danmark, tak for at være mit vindue til det absolutte kaos der er guapoduo

Okay I’ve gotta answer this one in English because Denmark??? Holy SHIT!

Thank you so much!!!

[woso-dreamzzz]

School

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You have a bad first day

The school is fancy.

It's private (the only one that Magda and Pernille could find on short notice) and you get put into a fancy uniform.

Magda thinks that a school blazer is too much for such a little girl to be wearing but it was the uniform policy so she bought it. You look incredibly grown up, perhaps too grown up for the little baby that used to sleep in her arms and cry when she hid your dummy.

Now though, she's the one crying.

"Magda," Pernille whispers," Smile. You're going to make her cry too."

Magda doesn't really think you need her help for that. You cling to her hand tightly, scuffing the ground with your fancy new shoes. You flinch every time a child goes past you and you worry your bottom lip with your teeth.

Magda puts on the biggest, fakest smile she can manage and tries to look encouraging.

You give her a weak smile back before shuffling forward and then back towards her again.

"Hallo!" A stern looking woman says from the classroom door.

"Hallo," You whisper back.

Magda stiffens when the woman gives you an odd look. She knows why though. You speak German very well but on certain words, you have the tiniest of accents and it's clear that this woman picks up on it.

Magda tightens her grip on you as Pernille talks to the teacher.

"Hey," She says," I love you."

You look towards the classroom where kids your age are running about and screaming.

"Don't want to," You whisper," Morsa, I don't want to."

"I know," She says," I don't want you too either but we're both going to be very brave and get through today."

"No," You say," No, I don't want to be brave. I want to go home." The little crinkle in your brow appears and your bottom lip wobbles.

"It's okay," Pernille joins you both now, cupping your face and smoothing out your crinkle," Just a few hours and then we'll pick you up and we'll go back to training."

You sniffle. "I want to go to training now."

"I know," Pernille says," But you've got school first."

You huff and look back at the classroom and the stern lady waiting for you.

"The sooner you start school, the sooner you can leave," Morsa promises you and that's enough to get you moving.

Two hours into your school day, you decide that you don't like it at all.

Your classmates are mean and the little boy who sits next to you pulls your hair and spits. It's very gross.

Your teacher isn't nice either. You don't think she likes you either. She's kind of mean and speaks very quickly to you as if to catch you out with something.

Your German is good and Momma and Morsa have been teaching you to read at home but it's a little slower reading in German than your other languages.

You know you can read Swedish and Danish well because Momma and Morsa focus on that at home and you can read English too because sometimes Jessie and Niamh would help you while you sat on the bench with them.

You didn't really have anyone to read German with but you know how to read in your other languages so it's kind of the same and all you need to do is sound out the words.

You don't know why she's picking on you because everyone else is struggling too. It's not your fault.

"We speak German here. Not English," She says a bit spitefully but, strangely, in English when you pass her for breaktime.

That makes an icky feeling appear in your stomach and you sit by yourself at break on the playground.

Your other classmates seem to have picked up on the weird atmosphere your teacher has created around you because nobody comes to play with you.

You've never really had much interaction with kids your age so you're not too sure whether you should invite yourself into someone else's game or wait for them to invite you. You don't want to make people not like you more.

So, you sit at the very edge of the playground and dig at some weeds with a stick. You want to go and play football with the boys but you saw them turn away another girl who wanted to play earlier so you stay far away.

Your day doesn't really get better because after break your teacher is still very mean and she gets an annoyed and somewhat angry look on her face when you burst into tears.

She sends you by yourself to the reception lady, who takes one look at you and gives you tissues to dry your face before calling Momma and Morsa.

The receptionist woman is nice and you wish she was your teacher instead of the mean woman because she shares half her chocolate bar with you while you wait.

Momma and Morsa come quickly, still in their training kits and you burst back into tears all over again.

You curl yourself into Momma and sob. "Don't want to do school anymore," You choke out," Don't make me. No more!"

Momma hushes you softly, tucking you into her so you have some semblance of privacy. She picks you up too as Morsa spits venom at the poor reception lady who, quite graciously, accepts it in her stride.

"So mean," You explain to Momma as you both sit in the car," She's so mean. Momma, she's picking on me." You tug off your blazer and pull at your shirt. "I don't want to go back."

"I know you don't," Momma says," But-"

"No!"

Morsa opens the door and slams herself into her seat in annoyance. "That foul, foul, pathetic excuse for a teacher," She bites out," I told you, didn't I, Pernille? That I got bad vibes off her?!"

"I know, Magda," Momma says quietly," Let's just get back to training and discuss it tonight..." She jerks her head towards you and you know that means this conversation will be had when you're in bed and asleep.

You wish they would include you but you also know that this conversation will be long and boring with lots of adult topics that will probably get confusing.

"Hey," Morsa says, wiggling your knee as Momma starts the car," We're going to head back to training. Your gloves are in your practice bag, if that will make you feel better?"

You nod.

That would make you feel better.

[kamotecue]

grumpy and her sunshine ❃ f. rolfö

pairing: fridolina rolfö x reader

summary: you were known as the stone-cold midfielder, but to your national teammates, they knew how much of a softie you are, especially for a certain forward. danish!reader ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

to others, you weren’t seen as a soft-hearted person. you weren’t one for smiling in public, you’ve only shown your smile to frido, the love of your life.

you met through a certain captain, pernille was the one to introduce you to her. it happened during an international friendly, the danish captain had learned of your crush after kathrine had let it slip in the locker room.

since then the two of you would go on dates, you would surprise her with gifts, as it was your love language. however, hers was words of affirmation and quality time.

it was off-season for the club, hence you spent a few days in barcelona. you were sitting on a bean bag chair that you persuaded frido to buy.

“love, what are you doing?” frido asked, as you snickered at her look. she wore a pair of your glasses (it didn’t have any grade, so it didn’t affect her eye sight), her hair was in a lovely but in a messy bun.

“i’m just reading a book.” you said, waving up a book you brought, it was something you would do. every night, you’d read a chapter to frido before you’d both go to bed.

“should we order take out?” frido asked, as you gave her a chuckle.

“love, between the two of us, you’re the better cook.” frido commented, as you gave her an innocent look.

“go ahead and order.” you said, giving her a soft look as she got her phone and ended up ordering pizza. when she was done, you gave her a hum.

“if you told me a few years ago that i was dating you, i wouldn’t have believed it.” frido teased, as you jokingly looked at her offended.

“i must have you know, i’m quite charming that’s why you fell for me.” you laughed at her look, but she shook her head with a small smile.

“you really are, n/n.” you gave her a small smirk, before patting your thigh. she gave you a small look, but ended up sitting on your thighs, while you both engaged in a small talk.

“i used to be a little intimidated by you, did you know? everyone was so surprised when they found out” as you gave her a small laugh, it was amusing when she would tell stories.

“were they that surprised when they found out? besides, it’s not like i care what they say about us, they probably have sad love lives anyway.” you joked as frido slapped your arm that was around her waist.

“n/n.” she said, as you gave her a lopsided grin.

“alright, maybe i do care. i want to prove that i’m worth it, you’re the only one i have a soft spot for.” you commented as she smiled brightly.

“you’re such a little giant, but i love you n/n.” she gave you a little kiss on the crown of your head.

“i love you too, my sunshine.” you said, a lot of fans said that you both fitted the sunshine and grumpy trope. it made you laugh in amusement, but you didn’t deny it.

[first-edition]

Can I pleeeeease 🙏 have a Duncan Vizla smut where he has a huge breeding kink and reader has a choking kink. So he's choking her while "breeding" her, and she completely blissed out when she orgasms. So she's like fucked dumb and Duncan gets worried. So he gives tooth rotting aftercare.

Your Wish is my command oh kind soul.

Chocking, pin v- unprotected, fem readerserious after care teehee

“elsker” danish word for love

SMUT SMUT SMUT AND NOTHING BUT! Minors do not fucking read this i will sue you

The way Duncan devours you. Every inch ever minute detail of your body. His grunts in your ear as he fucks your life away only making you clench around his cock tighter.

How did you get here? You dont even remember not with your lover shoved in between your thighs and fucking the lights outta your head. The last thing you do rembering is his hands on yours in the kitchen. Now your half way off you bed as he rails you into the mattress.

Your breasts voice as he thrusts himself up into you. Each conflict forcing a pornographic moan out of your mouth. Your eyes roll back in your head as he grips your thighs, one leg strung over his shoulder the other wrapped around his waist keeping him close to you. You were long passed gripping onto him now you gripped the pillow under you head screaming both out and into the plush material that keeps you from banging your skull against the headboard.

“F-fu-u.. d-Duncan.. ah!” You moan out dribbling words barely being able to form half of one. Your pulsing puffy pussy dripping from his and your shared cum. The amount of stamina this man has for you is otherworldly. Most people down in town always give you looks from the age gap between you and your man. Wondering the most private things about you too.

‘How long would he last with you?’

‘How does he get it up?’

If only they could see you both right now you would answer those questions with out even speaking.

You scream out toes curling as you experience another orgasam a number you lost count of so many ago. Duncan grunts as you grip you walls around him only prompting him to fuck you harder, faster, better. If better is even possible. Every time you have sex he fucks you like he’s missing something trying to save a peice of you for later every time, like the pie he orders in the diner almost every night.

His hand wraps around your neck not to kill you like he would a job, but to satisfy you more.

“Ahh f-fuu” you trail off mouth opening agape as the pure over stimulation causing your legs to shake.

“Fuck yeah.” He speaks. Duncan isn’t usually one for verbalizing his pleausre but when it comes to letting him raw dog you until youre a babbling mess he will not shut up.

“Im gonna fill this tight little pussy, you want that? You want me to budge the fuck outta you- argh.” He moans out holding your neck.

“Ngh…y-ye..yesss. Ah- ah- Ngh-“ your fucked out words barley make it passed your bitten lips.

“Fuck cum again, elsker.” When he changes to his native language, danish. You know you’ve got him pussy whipped. He goes on and on in Danish and several neighbor languages about how much he wants to fill you. Make you swollen with his. Put many babies inside you and have you waddle around the town so then everyone knows what hes capable of.

Your eyes cross up ward tounge handing out as he continues to annihilate your cunt. Perfectly fucked into another realm and just wanting for more. Your legs seize up when his thumb presses to your clit circling and flicking. It dosnt take long for the stimulation to take effect and a gush of arousal spews from your cunt making you babble out his name and other profanities associated with the pleasures he’s causing you.

“Fuck! Yes baby! Make a mess.” He groans as he forces his hips flush with yours. The head of his cock pushing against your cervix and possibly even deeper as he releases his last load, of what he can tell you can bare, into your cunt.

He lets go of your throat after a few more rough thrusts and kisses your face and jaw. Gazing his lips over your neck the marks for the hickies he left previously.

Your legs shake and you light twitch as the pur and utter sensitivity between your things courses through you. Duncan carefully pulls out of you making sure to be carful of your state.

“So fucking full my love.” He chuckles gathering the dripping cum and shoving it back. Into you with his fingers.

“You alright elsker?” He asks lovingly as he pulls his fingers out and looks to you. You dont answer as you feel numb your vision clouded with tears and little silver sparks flying through your eyes.

“Y/n? My love?” He asks again you dont reply once more only to smile and lick your lips.

“Shit..” Duncan moves up to your face cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“elsker, answer me.” He demands you giggle lightly eyes wandering.

He curses to him self out of relief and worry before getting up and walking to the bathroom. He turns the water on waiting for it to heat up. He quickly cleans himself off before dousing a wash cloth in the hot water and then taking it back to you once rung out a bit.

“Can i clean you up?” He asks leaning over you to look you in the face. You nod slightly.

“Good. You coming back to me then?” He chuckles. He runs the cloth down your body to your thighs clean the inner then moving back to your crotch being carful to softly clean you up as he knows just how sensitive you are at the current moment.

When hes done he places the cloth on the side table and slips on his boxers. He picks you up carefully and walks you both to the guest bedroom so he can take the sheets off your bed to clean later.

“Duncan.” You ask him as he carefully sets you onto the bed.

“There she is..fucked you too hard huh?” He asks you shake your head. You hold out your arms for his wrapping them around his neck before you both share a kiss the same undertone that got you in the pervious situation. He places his knee on the bed unaware that it’s between your leg causing his lower thigh to brush against your core.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you pull back erking at the sensation. You curl up closing your legs an closing your eyes the sensitivity slowly disaperating from your nerves.

“Sorry.” He says. You shake your head signally it’s okay, not nessisarly his fault, it is.

“I’ll draw you a bath.” He says. Duncan get up and goes to the bathroom in the guest room and begins to fill up the tub once more waiting for the water to heat up. Once full he exits and goes back to you. Your nude frame sitting on the bed perfect to his veiw but he knows if he were to be tempted by your beauty once more you’d kill him.

“Come on.” He says helping you up. Your legs give out from under you only prompting him to easily pick you up in his arms and carry you the rest of the way.

He sets you gentally in the bath water exactly how you like it showering you in kisses and words of affirmation. He sits on the tiled floor running another cloth over your shoulders helping you.

Once done he helps you dry and dress before quickly leaving you to take a short shower dry and dress himself. He joins you in bed and pulls you close to him speaking to you about how much he loves you and how good you were for him. You eventually fall asleep holding him back. He watches you for a moment before sleep take him over as well.

I hope you liked this. Duncan vizla is daddy and will be the father of my children!! I swear to god. If anyone has any more requests feel free to leave them in the comment section or send a message like this one. I’ll write pretty much anything but i do have my boundaries.

[traveler-at-heart]

What we were - Chapter 3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

CW: Character death, cheating.

Not sure if ya’ll gonna like where this is going but... this is my design.

Over the course of three weeks, you received yellow tulips, chocolate and danish scones from your favorite bakery.

Each item always included a hand-written note from Natasha wishing you a good day or with a poem you loved. You gave your thanks via text, but that was about it from your side.

Natasha also made it a point to drive and pick up Anya at least three times a week. On Fridays, they had dinner together and brought extra for you and Bucky.

A peace offering that he didn’t give a damn about. Still, it was fun for you to watch them interact with phony smiles, wondering who would break first.

As August ended, Anya’s school sent out their usual PTA meeting invite. You RSVPd, not really expecting Natasha to be there.

“Let me drive you” Bucky says as you look at yourself in the mirror. For the first time in months, you’re about to leave the house to interact with grown ups that won’t look at you with pity or sadness.

“And leave Anya alone? I don’t think so”

“It looks like it will rain, and you absolutely can’t drive at night with rain” 

“Are you calling me old? You, the centennial man?” you pinch him, reaching for the wrong arm. “Ouch” 

“Clearly, this interaction has shown that I’m more mature than both of you,” Anya proclaims, doing her homework in the living room. “It’s a short drive and you know uncle Bucky is right, Mom” 

“Ugh, fine. But call us if you need anything, please?” you kiss her forehead and in spite of yourself, wear your reading glasses. 

“Yeah, yeah” 

“Be back in a second, kid” Bucky says, ruffling her red hair.

“With Chinese”

“Fine” 

“She’s so bossy” you comment, buckling up. He chuckles.

“Wonder where she got that from” 

“Hey!” you slap his arm, thankful that it wasn’t the metal one this time. “I know you’re just driving me because you want to see Miss Day”

“Anya’s teacher? Nah” his blush gives it away.

“Busted” 

You have to hold back a laugh when, out of all people, Miss Day is the one greeting everyone at the door.

“Sergeant Barnes” she greets a little too eagerly. “Will you be joining Mrs. Romanoff tonight?”

“Just dropping her off” he stumbles with his words.

“He’s such a gentleman, don’t you think?” you say, nudging him. “Any girl would be lucky to have him” 

“Well, Anya speaks wonders of you. And you’re welcome to stay, we will just be a little crowded in the classroom, considering the other Mrs. Romanoff is already here” 

“Oh. Right” 

“That’s my cue. Call me later” he mumbles, annoyed at the idea of Natasha arriving earlier than you two.

“Of course!” Miss Day is quick to answer, but blushes a second later. “Oh, right, you meant… her. Ha-ha, silly me” 

You’ll never, ever, let him forget this.

As you walk into the classroom, still smiling, your eyes meet Natasha’s. She waves at you awkwardly.

“Saved you a seat” she points at the chair next to hers and you nod.

“Thank you” 

Miss Day goes over the upcoming fairs, projects and field trips. The curriculum goes next and by the time she finishes with the Q&A session, it’s been an hour.

The last part consists of parents meeting privately with Miss Day to review grades and conduct. It’s in alphabetical order so you’re one of the last.

“I forgot how long these things are” you sit next to Natasha in one of the hallway benches. You lean back, sighing. 

“Want some chocolate?”

“Mmm, yes. I’m starving” you take the snack and practically moan at the first bite. “Sorry” you mumble when Natasha blushes. 

“I like it when you wear glasses,” she says, looking at her feet.

It’s your turn to blush.

“Thank you” 

“Mrs. and Mrs. Romanoff?” Miss Day calls for you.

“Us? So soon?” you look at Natasha and she shrugs her shoulders.

“Oh, yeah, we’re not doing the alphabetical thing anymore. We go over top performers first. Please sit. Anya is doing great. As you know, she’s already fluent in four languages…”

“Five” Natasha corrects and you go over the list in your head. Oh yeah, German.

“Right, five. Sorry” Miss Day looks flustered, and you remember that most of Anya’s teachers have always been particularly afraid of your wife.

“I forgot as well. It’s hard to keep up with Anya sometimes” you intervene, kicking Nat’s leg softly.

Be nice.

The Russian smiles, trying to look friendly.

“She’s leaning towards Humanities a little bit more than last year. As you remember, she won first place at the Interstate Science Fair. And her grades are still great in all subjects, but she has been reading a lot more. And taken some interest in learning to play the piano” 

“My dad made me take lessons when I was her age. I may have mentioned it once or twice. Though none of us really know how to play any instruments, right, darling?” you say, distractedly.

“R-right” Natasha’s eyes widen at the pet name. “Yelena, her aunt, she plays the guitar”

“Oh, yeah” you nod, still unaware of your slip up. “Well, I’ll ask her if she wants to take some private lessons. I’m too rusty to teach her anything”

“Other than that, she’s doing great. She’s a great kid, sweet and very kind to her peers… as for faculty members…” 

“What?” you're shocked to think that anyone would complain about your daughter.

“Well, kids like Anya…”

“Like what?” Natasha practically barks at the teacher and she jumps in her seat.

“I mean super smart. They tend to have an issue with authority and question everything. There’s also that thing where she’s very good at sneaking around”

“We’ll talk to her” you promise, but you’re uncertain about how the conversation will go.

After all, you married her other mother while you two were running away from the American government. And the Avengers were famous for breaking rules regularly.

The team had a whole Wikipedia page on broken laws, including sections by country and international organizations.

“In that case, class dismissed” the woman seems relieved when you say goodbye.

You walk next to Natasha, caught up in your thoughts. She keeps you from walking into the rain by pulling you next to her.

“Huh?” you look back, your face inches away from hers.

“It’s raining” she explains.

“Oh” 

“Do you want my jacket? Where did you park?”

“Buck drove me here. I’ll get a cab” 

“Let me” she offers, her green eyes pleading.

“Could we… get something to eat first? I’m very hungry and not in the mood for chinese”

“Yes, anything you want” 

There’s an awkward moment as she walks you to the passenger door and you both reach for the handle.

“Sorry, yeah…” you let her pull and then you slip inside, trying to control your breathing.

“What are you in the mood for?” she says, driving out of the school’s parking lot.

“Grilled cheese” you say and she chuckles. 

“From Al’s?”

“Where else, Nat?”

“Coming right up”

--

“You really were hungry” Natasha smiles as you steal another one of her fries.

“Maria had me on back to back meetings. And then I went to swim for a whole hour. So this is just me rewarding myself for being such a responsible adult” 

“How’s the leg?”

“The same”

“My offer still stands,” she reminds you. Her phone rings and you’re saved the trouble of refusing said offer for the second time. “Will you excuse me?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’ll finish your fries for you” 

Natasha rolls her eyes, but pushes the plate towards you.

The evening has been surprisingly pleasant. But a minute later, she hurriedly hangs up and walks back to you.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah” she lies.

In the past, maybe because you loved her, you let those small lies fly. But not pushing enough was part of what brought you here.

“Tasha? I’d like to know”

You lock eyes and you hold your breath as Natasha studies your expression.

“Ok” she nods. You give her a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’ve been researching… that mission. Trying to find whoever is responsible for Clint’s…”

She bites her lip, looking down. On instinct, you reach out across the table to squeeze her hand. Natasha holds on tight, running her thumb across your skin.

“I think I’ve found them. Kate was tracking her mother after she escaped prison. Seems like Eleanor Bishop is now working with international terrorists” 

“They weren’t prepared for that, then? Kate and Clint thought it would be something…”

“Easier”

You nod.

“So, what’s wrong?”

“It’s not gonna be easy to get to them. It’s a matter of international security and every government wants in on the mission. I was hoping I could call a few favors…”

“So, you’re not gonna go rogue and beat them on your own?” you arch an eyebrow, impressed with her self control.

Honestly, you expected Natasha to fly and kill them as soon as she got the intel.

“I wouldn’t be a very good mother if I was stuck at the Raft. Or running away like we used to”

“I’ll travel to D.C.” you offer and her eyes widen. “I can pull some strings. As much as I hate it, my father’s name still holds some weight there” 

“Would you do that? I know how much you hate going back there”

All the politics and the lies, the power these people craved and hoarded… yes, it made you sick. But if you could help Natasha, you’d take it.

“It will be fine”

“This means the world to me, Y/N” 

“I know, Nat. Which is why you’ll get me ice cream for dessert” 

“Deal” she lets go of your hand to call the waitress and you smile.

You also wish she hadn't let go.

--

Packing for one was easier than you remembered. It was only a two day trip, anyway. 

Natasha insisted on driving you to the airport and Anya wanted to tag along. It was as good a time as any to remind them of the rules of the house.

“Pop quiz, everyone” you announce.

Anya and Natasha groan at the same time.

“Do we really have to?” your daughter complains.

“How many times a day do you have to water my plants, Natasha?”

“Uh… five?”

“Once! Just once, tomorrow” Anya laughs at her mother and you turn to point at her. “Ok, plants are your responsibility now, missy”

“Aw, Ma!” 

“No Nerf guns inside the house” you keep listing the rules with your fingers.

“Hey, that’s no fun!” Natasha complains and you ignore her.

“No horror movies, if you order pizza it should have at least two different vegetables and last but not least, I do not want to come back home and see that you acquired any sort of animal as a pet” 

“So if a puppy shows up at our door and it’s raining, we’re supposed to leave them outside?” Anya peaks from the backseat.

“No, you drive them to uncle Buck’s and force him to take care of them” 

“Alright, we get it. We’ll behave, right, kiddo?” Natasha promises, winking at Anya.

Saying goodbye it’s harder than you imagined. Anya doesn’t know why you’re going to D.C., but she understands you wouldn’t leave if it wasn’t important.

“Y/N, it’s a two day trip” Natasha complains, carrying your heavy suitcase. “Bucky had no issue getting it down the stairs”

“That’s low, even for you, Ma” Anya says, but still laughs.

“I know, I’m sorry” you take the suitcase from Nat.

“You are not,” she chuckles.

“Tiny, tiny bit” you put your thumb and pointer finger close together. Anya hugs your side and you turn to her. “Take care of Mom, please. I’ll be back the day after tomorrow”

“We’ll be ok, I promise” 

“I love you” you say against her hair. She hugs you tight.

“We love you too” Anya says and you smile. 

“Have a nice trip” Natasha approaches nervously, her hands on the pockets of her jeans.

“Thank you”

Before you have time to process what’s happening, she leans forward and places a kiss on your forehead.

It’s all you can think about on the flight to D.C.

--

Secretary of State Leah Renfield sends a driver to pick you up from the airport. She accepted your request to meet immediately, which can only mean one thing: whatever you’re gonna ask of her, she already knows how you’ll pay it back.

“Agent Romanoff” she greets you, walking away from her huge mahogany desk. She’s tall and her blonde hair has some white on the front. 

“Madame Secretary, it’s good to see you again” you take the hand she offers and follow her to a small futon next to a giant window. 

“I must say, I love that you took your wife’s last name. Natasha Romanoff is a KGB double agent and you’d rather be associated with her than with Thaddeuss Ross” 

“Well, it’s hard to be on good terms with a parent that turns you into an outlaw” 

“In the end, the Avengers did more for the world than he did” she concedes. It’s no secret that she never liked your father, but you share the sentiment wholeheartedly. “So, I am very happy to welcome you whenever you want. I know that you’re still working in intelligence and SHIELD ops”

“Right” you sit straight and look her in the eye. “The thing is… as you know, Agent Barton was killed seven months ago”

“A tragedy” 

“We’ve gathered evidence and it all points to an international terrorist organization called Helios. They’ve been collaborating with some lower rank Hydra officials. It’s all here” you hand over the information that Natasha has collected, about members, attacks and possible targets.

“This is an issue of international security, then” she declares, after browsing through the files. “But what’s the point of bringing it to me?”

“We want to be the ones on a mission to tear it down and arrest those responsible for killing Agent Barton” 

“We, as in, the Avengers”

“Yes”

Renfield sighs, and stands up to walk around the room. She pauses near the alcohol cabinet. It’s too early for a glass of bourbon.

“The world isn’t what it used to be when you were a team, Agent. Frankly, I don’t know how you all got away with so much contempt for the law”

“Well, we saved the universe once or twice. Remember Thanos?”

The woman sighs and nods. Yes, she does. Her daughter and husband were blipped, after all. She has her family back because of you.

“I’m here because we want to do things right. Without causing you too much trouble, as I understand you might run for president next year…”

Renfield laughs and looks at you.

“I always thought you’d do great in politics” 

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment, Madam Secretary” 

“Me neither”

There’s a knock at the door; her Chief of Staff reminds her she has to run to another meeting.

“Walk with me” she asks, taking the file and handing it over to her assistant. “When are you going back to New York?”

“Friday morning” 

“I’ll try to have an answer by then”

“Thank you” 

“Let’s meet before you go back. And give my best to your wife”

“Will do”

--

“I don’t want her greetings, I want her to okay the mission. In fact, I want her to authorize a nuclear warhead straight to these terrorists’ asses” Natasha rants.

You finally made it to the hotel and have a few hours before you meet with a friend from Law School.

“Jeez, Nat. Let’s just wait for her answer”

Natasha insisted on a video call the minute you checked in.

“Fine. You’re good at reading people. What do you think she’ll say?”

“My guess?” you sigh. “They’ve known about Helios for a while. Their operation is very similar to Hydra. We were the only ones who could deal with Hydra. And now, we’re offering to do the work for the CIA, MI6 and Interpol”

“So they’ll say yes”

“But since we came asking for the favor first… I don’t know. Maybe Renfield will want some type of endorsement for her campaign. I can do that”

“I didn’t mean to put you in this position. I’m sorry”

“I offered. And it will be worth it if we can put Clint’s killers behind bars” 

“Yeah…”

“Natasha, you can’t kill them”

“It could be an accident, detka”

“Stop, I’d like to know as little as possible in case this goes to trial” 

“Fair enough” she chuckles. “By the way, can I use your computer? I need to check my email and my phone is being stupid”

“Sure, the password is our anniversary” 

“Oh, ok” 

“Right… It’s almost time for you to pick up Anya. And I want to take a bath and sleep a little. Tell her I love her and that I’ll call her later, please?”

“Yeah, for sure”

“Thanks, Tasha” 

Walking away from your phone, you begin to get rid of your shirt and the black skirt falls to the ground. The bathtub is almost full so you go back to the bedroom in nothing but your underwear.

“Shit” 

Natasha is still on the call, mouth wide open. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you hung up”

“I thought you did” you mutter from the floor, hiding from the camera. “Byeee”

Damn it. 

--

Natasha can almost remember what life was like before she lost her best friend.

The domesticity of picking up Anya, making sure she does her homework while dinner is ready. You’re the only piece of the puzzle that’s missing.

She desperately wants to make it all better. Fix all the mistakes she made, take back the hurtful words she threw at you when she was so angry at the world.

“Dinner’s gonna be ready in five” the redhead tells her daughter.

“Can we eat in the living room while watching Project Runway?”

“Yes, but don’t tell your mother” 

“Mmkay” 

Just then, she remembers the email that Maria sent and she was supposed to review. She goes to your study. Nothing’s really changed in the room. Every wall is covered with books and your desk is full of pictures of your family.

Even the ones from your wedding.

Natasha runs her hand through one of the pictures. She’s looking at the camera and you’re looking at her, with complete love and adoration.

How could she be so blind to throw it all away?

As she logs in, there’s a notification from your calendar.

Dinner with Cynthia Florrick - Finestra

She tries really hard to not think about it, but that name rings a bell.

Oh, right. The divorce lawyer that Pepper threatened to hire if Tony didn’t retire.

You’re meeting with a divorce lawyer in D.C.

Natasha lost you.

--

“Hi, I have a reservation under Florrick” you greet the hostess. It’s an expensive Italian restaurant full of big suits and elegant women. 

Another thing you don’t miss about D.C.; their fixation on fancy clothes.

“Oh my God, it’s been ages!” your friend shouts. Her loud voice and manners are a little out of place among the clientele.

“Hi, Cyn” you hug her and take a seat. “Well, you won’t visit me in New York so I had to come to you”

“Oh, that’s soon about to change” she smirks. You don’t have a chance to ask why, as an older man walks behind you and she waves. “Cliff, so good to see you”

He gives her the side eye and walks away.

“He doesn’t look happy to see you”

“Oh, he’s just mad because I got his wife the lake house in the settlement. And anyway, as I was saying, I’m opening an office in New York and another one in San Diego”

“Congrats!”

“Yeah, baby. Call me the Tony Stark of family law”

“Well, I’ll be happy to introduce you to some people. You wouldn’t believe the divorce rate among spies” 

“Not you and Natasha, right?”

“Oh, no! We’re doing great” you lie.

“Well, good to hear” Cynthia raises her glass of wine. “Let’s chat, gossip about everyone from college and celebrate that we’re both great” 

--

It’s impossible to nap as you wait for the plane to land. 

On Thursday, Secretary Renfield invited you to a luncheon with some of the biggest names in national security.

The attendees were drawn to you. After all, the Avengers had been successful where most intelligence agencies failed. 

Before you left, she stood aside to brief you on her decision.

“The answer is yes. But with one condition. You lead the mission. Do you agree?”

“Yes”

“And you were right, I am aiming for the White House next year. If you feel inclined to show your support when that happens, I’ll be very grateful”

“Madam Secretary, you have my vote and my endorsement” 

You can’t wait to tell Natasha the news.

Maybe, just maybe, your lives can go back to normal.

Bucky and Anya are the ones waiting for you at the terminal.

“Is… everything ok?” 

“Yeah, I was just stealing this one for a baseball game” Bucky points at your daughter. “So you have a chance to catch up and get some rest”

“Well, it’s good to see you both” you smile, uncertain. Anya hugs you and she doesn’t seem too concerned, so you figure Bucky is telling the truth.

On the drive back home, you catch your daughter yawning a couple of times.

“You so went past your bedtime”

“Nuh-uh” she denies it.

“Yuh-uh”

“Real mature” Bucky mutters and you hit him.

“I leave for a day and everyone goes rogue” 

“Good thing you’re back, then”

When you finally get home, Bucky helps you with the suitcase while Anya waits in the car.

“Ok, as your friend, I’m warning you that Natasha asked me to take Anya so she could talk to you”

“James!” you say, punching him again. “Why didn’t you say something? Did she look happy? Worried? What were her exact words?”

“I don’t know, just go talk to her. The game is about to start. Good luck”

He sprints down the stairs and you are left to drag your heavy suitcase across the hallway.

“Nat? Natasha?”

You walk to your office, where she’s sitting, looking at your wedding pictures.

“Hi there”

“Hello” she greets, her voice low. She looks defeated.

Your heart pounds in your ears.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t need you to do me any favors out of pity or whatever it is you feel for me. I thought I had a chance, and all this time you were thinking about a divorce. I’m an idiot” she chuckles, but it comes out as a sob.

“Am I in an alternate universe where I mentioned the word divorce? Because I’ve never brought it up”

“You met with a lawyer” 

“Cynthia? You were spying on me?”

“The notification popped up on your computer when I was checking my emails”

“And instead of asking me, you go around making up scenarios. Just like you did last time, assuming I’d jump to bed with James. I get it, Natasha. You want to think the worst of me, that’s fucking fine. Let me know what other evil shit I’ll do next. Turn our daughter against you, maybe? Which would be really funny, considering I’ve made it a point to not tell her why you moved out of the house”

You look out the window, turning your back to her.

“You’re the only person that made me feel safe and happy and loved. All I ever wanted was to do the same for you. Even after everything, if you asked me to, I’d take you back in a heartbeat. I was so hurt because you kept pushing me away while you were sharing yourself with someone else. I thought you finally realized I couldn’t make you happy. And I love you and want to set you free, but I’m also too scared to let you go. So, sorry to disappoint you but if you want to move on, you’re gonna have to ask me for the divorce”

She’s silent as you pause to wipe your tears.

“So, are you gonna leave or what?” you bark out, impatient.

Natasha doesn’t move.

“Fine, I’ll go” you turn around, walking to the door. You’ll find a place to mourn, because this feels like the end, and you can’t take it. Natasha’s touch brings you back to earth. “What are you doing?”

“I-”

“Let me go” you plead, not turning around. She pulls you closer, spinning you until you face her.

“I’d be an idiot to let you go” 

A sob escapes and she silences it with her mouth, pressing her lips against yours in a searing kiss.

It’s everything you need, to feel complete again. Natasha’s touch is your sanctuary and you welcome its warmth. Her arms slide down your waist and you keep her close as she begins to undo the buttons of your pants. You break apart for a moment to take your shirt off, asking her to do the same with a tug.

“Let me take care of you” she pleads, going down and leaving a trail of kisses across your exposed skin. Your knees buckle when she reaches your underwear. “It’s ok, I got you”

Trusting, you allow her to lap at your folds, but the pressure is too much so you begin to lower yourself to the floor. Natasha makes sure that you’re comfortable and then resumes her ministrations, soft and deep.

It’s not possessive, but very intense. She’s soft and considerate, taking her time to build up the pleasure, until you’re on the brink of orgasm, holding her face close to your center until you ride every wave. 

“Was that ok?” she hovers over you and you taste yourself in her lips.

“Yes. But I need more”

“How much more?”

“A lot more”

--

Three hours later and you’re in bed, clothes scattered across the floor.

Well, Natasha’s clothes. Yours are still at your office.

“Was it good?” Natasha whispers and you make a face. “What?”

“You’ve never asked me that before. And now, this is the second time you do it”

“I just want to make sure you liked it” 

“I did. Very much liked it. In fact, like might be a bit of an understatement”

“Ok, good” she turns to her side and you do the same, your faces an inch away from each other. “So, what do we do now?”

“Well… we have a mission to complete. Then we can worry about the rest”

“Renfield said yes?” she asks, shocked. You nod.

“On the condition that I lead the mission. And I think we should tell the team, Nat. They deserve to know” 

Natasha sighs, sitting up.

“Maybe we should just let someone else handle this” 

“It’s not like us to let the bad guys get away with it” you kiss her shoulder, resting your chin against her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I just got you back. What if something happens?”

“Everything will be alright. We do this together”

“Together” she promises, her forehead resting against yours.

Taglist: @wandabear, @thatonebrazilian, @canvascoloredin, @ctrlamira, @dvrkhcld, @username23345, @unexpected-character, @how-to-disappearrr, @casquinhaa, @cd-4848

[fics-n-stuff]

Steve walked into the Munson trailer one day to find Eddie in the kitchen singing, lightly headbanging along to the accompanying instrumental that was playing in his head while he washed the dishes. This was not unusual. What was unusual was that Eddie was not singing in English.

Steve shut the trailer door slowly and quietly so as not to catch Eddie's attention, and slowly moved forward while listening to Eddie sing. He didn't want to interrupt yet.

A couple of minutes passed before Eddie turned and noticed Steve. He jumped, letting out a small yelp, which made Steve chuckle.

"Jesus, Harrington! How long have you been there?"

"A couple minutes."

"And you didn't think of saying anything?"

"I was trying to figure out what language you were singing in."

"Oh." Eddie grabbed a tea towel to wipe his hands on. "It was Danish."

"You speak Danish?" Steve asked in disbelief. Eddie nodded casually.

"Yeah, my mom was Danish." He shrugged. He dropped the towel and sauntered over to Steve, draping his arms over his shoulders before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "Did I never tell you that?"

"No, you never told me that. You're Danish?"

"Yeah." Eddie laughed. "I know I don't really look it. You know, dark hair and dark eyes aren't really the expected viking features. Unfortunately I look more like my dad. But my hair was lighter when I was a kid."

"You speak Danish?" Steve's brain was still catching up with all this new information.

"En lille smule." Eddie grinned. "Min mor talte dansk tilt mig."¹

"I don't know what you said but that was really hot." Steve muttered. Eddie laughed. "So what was that song you were singing?"

"Me and my cousin in Denmark write letters to each other. He sent me a tape with some music he thought I'd like and one of the songs got stuck in my head."

"Will you teach me some Danish?"

"Selvfølgelig!"² Eddie's face lit up. "Nobody's ever cared that I was Danish before. A lot of people literally didn't even know that Denmark is a country."

"I think it's really cool. I wish my mom had taught me Italian, I only know the things my nonna always said, which is mostly swears and insults."

"Hey, that's useful stuff. That means you can shit talk people without them knowing what you said."

"Yeah but it would be nice to have a functioning knowledge of the language too." Steve shrugged.

"Det er ikke så fantastisk."³ Eddie said with a shake of his head, though his lips were quirked up in a smile. "There isn't really much point when nobody else understands."

"Except that being bilingual is hot." Steve smiled.

"Er det rigtigt?"⁴ Eddie exclaimed amusedly, grinning again. He leaned in to press another kiss to Steve's lips, longer and more tender. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Steve's, letting out a tiny contented sigh. "Jeg elsker dig."⁵

------------

I just came back from visiting family in Denmark and I had the idea of Scandinavian Eddie so here's a teensy tiny ficlet. I was gonna make him Norwegian because Norway is more known for their metal music than Denmark, but I don't speak Norwegian so I felt uncomfortable writing any Nowegian sentences. I don't really speak Danish either but I could at least kinda know what I was writing, and I kept it pretty simple so almost all of it is stuff I know anyway. 💕

Translations:

¹"A little bit." "My mum spoke Danish to me."

²"Of course!"

³"It's not that great."

⁴"Is that right?"

⁵"I love you."

[wildemaven]

The Beginning: The Proposal

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader

WC: 3528

Warnings: language, established relationship, 2nd POV, mentions of food and drinks, im going to refrain from any other things to not give anything away, but it’s all fluff

A/N: It’s here!! I’m excited and nervous!! Happy to give these to a little more love and a little bit more backstory to them. Normally I have a full blown moodboard (and I do) but it would give away too much so I’m opting to not have one but if you’re interested in seeing it, I can post it in like a separate “spoilers below” post. Also, reader’s nickname is revealed in this, so any future posts will have it when referring to her (so much easier to when trying to avoid a name). And last but not least, their song picked by y’all is Lover by T.Swift and there’s a playlist linked below.

Edited to add a big thank you to @noisynaia for letting scream at her my thoughts!!!

Okay. I hope you like it. And if you ever want to scream about these two with me, my ask box is always open.

Previous / Series Masterlist / The Proposal Playlist / Weekends Masterlist

Sometimes the beauty of life is allowing it happen organically.

Delicate bits of time woven together through fleeting moments— in varying degrees of inconsequential or life changing events.

Momentous is how you would describe your life in a single word at this very moment in time.

The last 6 months had been a whirlwind for you and Frankie. Since that night you’d both not only confessed your love to each other, but also deciding to spend the rest of time together.

You’d convinced your landlord to let you out if your lease early, due to you being a exemplary tenant for several years. With the help of Frankie and the guys, you were able to box up your things and move into Frankie’s house across town.

It had taken a few weeks to unpack your life into this new space, but you felt a sense of accomplishment once everything had a place and mixed in effortlessly with Frankie’s belongings.

You’d both decided early on to keep your engagement to yourselves— a secret for the two of you to savor and enjoy.

Not that you were worried about what others might think, but this felt like a special kind of thing you wanted to bask in before sharing with your loved ones.

And when the time was right, everyone would know.

*

Your schedules had been booked and busy, so you’d both decided to take a random Friday off to spend some extra time together. You were excited to have a 3 day weekend, alone with your fiancé. Which also meant sleeping in as late as you wanted and taking your leisure time to extricate yourself from your cozy lush surroundings.

The bed dips a bit as you turn and stretch out your slow waking form.

“Time to get up sleepy head.” His voice is still your favorite part of waking up. The soft cadence tickles every inch of your body, better than any cup of coffee ever could.

“You let me sleep in, thank you.”

“You looked comfy all wrapped up, figured you could use a few more hours.”

He kisses you, it’s sweet and laced with a hint of bitterness from his morning coffee.

“Mmm! Good morning handsome.”

“Mornin’ Beautiful. There’s a coffee and a danish on the nightstand for you.” You shoot him a questioning look, amusingly taken aback and confused. “Don’t look at me like that. They were all out of croissants this morning, so I went with your second favorite.”

You accept the offer, rolling on to your stomach to reach for your coffee. You get lost in the first sip and savor its creamy rich flavor as it hits every waiting taste bud.

“Alright sleeping beauty. Time to get your ass outta bed and get ready.” Giving your backside a few pats before heading for the bedroom door. “Our appointment is at 3 and then dinner reservations are at 6. Gonna go iron my shirt and clean up my shoes.”

“Hey!” Playfully yelling for his attention as he walks away.

He stops just outside the door, turning back towards you.

“I love you.” He serious expression relaxes and his face lighting up instantly.

“I love you too.” He shoots you a wink before turning to carry on.

It takes you a minute to get yourself up and moving. Bites of your delicious danish and sips of your warm latte aid in your efforts to get yourself ready.

Your mundane routine of showering and prepping for the day were taken at a deliberate pace. Enjoying the balmy spray of the water, soothing the slight aches and pains that had built up over the last week, the feeling of relief is almost instant.

Toweling yourself off and slipping on your cozy rob, you finish readying yourself with a simple makeup look— nothing too fancy or bold, just enough to accentuate your most favorite features.

The garment bag containing your dress for the day was tucked away in the back of your closet. You were so excited to finally get to wear it and eager to see the look on Frankie’s face when he sees you in it.

It was muted in coloring, an off shade of white, it wasn’t anything you’d ever considered for yourself but the moment you’d tried it on there was an instant reaction of sorts. It’s silky smooth fabric hugged your body in such a way that you couldn’t help but feel like it was made for you.

Jewelry and shoes finished off the look, taking yourself in fully as you stand in front of your full length mirror. You hands smoothing over the dress, admiring every detail of your reflection.

“You look stunning.”

Your eyes immediately drawn to Frankie in the mirror leaning against the door frame.

Your breath catches at the sight of him. His head cocked to the side as he admires you, hands tucked into his pant pockets, suit jacket hugging his broad shoulders over his freshly ironed shirt— the top buttons forgotten about in true Frankie fashion.

He pushes himself off the doorframe, taking a few long strides until he is crowding behind your spot in front of the mirror.

His eye contact is direct, holding an intensity that makes you dizzy. Your body tingles when his large hands slowly rest on your shoulders, his thumbs toying at the delicate straps of your dress.

“Frankie…” His name floats over your lips as you look at him with an ardent smile.

His eyes never stop watching you as he leans down pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, your eyelids flutter as the sensation of his lips ripples through your body.

Your hand comes up to caress the side of his face, his beard trimmed down, the stubble causing a bit of resistance to your touch.

You can’t help the tiny moan that escapes from your throat as Frankie begins to press kiss after kiss along your neck, tilting your head to completely give into to his wandering mouth.

“If you don’t stop, we’re never going to be on time.” Your breathless, knowing that it’s a slippery slop of carnal desire once things start to heat up.

He kisses you one last time before standing to his full height.

“You look so pretty.”

“Pretty?” His eyebrow raises at your comment, not he doesn’t think a man can be pretty, he’s just never saw himself as such.

You turn so you’re fully facing him, hands resting on his chest as you look at him with a sweet gaze. “Yes, pretty. And your hair looks good too.” Your fingers lightly combs through the sides just purely for the experience of touching him some more.

“You think so??” You nod softly and lean into kiss him gently.

“Let’s go handsome.”

*

It was a 45 minute drive, which gave you both plenty of time to enjoy each other’s company. Chats about work and plans for the next few months permeated the truck cabin. 70’s ballads filled the in between silence, but usually evoking laughter from you as Frankie would do his best to stay in tune with the music.

This was now a regular feature in both of your lives. These days spent together, relishing each and every moment, were your favorite. Weekends alone or with friends had you craving adventure as much as possible. But even the slow paced weekends, at home had become a cherished time for the both of you, wanting to absorb each and every moment before the work week was knocking at the door.

The large building towers over the street as Frankie pulls into the parking spot. Its florid design was beautiful for a giant cement building, the front covered in windows and ornate decorative details that are reminiscent of older times.

The weather is warm and sunny as you make your way to the building, Frankie’s grasp on your hand is grounding, giving it a few subtle squeezes as you walk through the glass doors.

The air inside feels cold and stale as you wait for the next available window, very on brand for such a building. A slight shiver has Frankie pulling you in to him, wrapping you in his warmth.

“Next!”

“Good afternoon ma’am. We have an appointment, should be under Morales.”

She doesn’t respond as she clicks away at her keyboard, squinting at her computer screen through her wide-rim glasses.

“Do you have all your proper documentation with you today?” Straight to the point and zero enthusiasm in her tone.

“Uh, yes ma’am.” Frankie hands her the small stack of papers she had asked for. You squeeze his hand now, 3 times as a silent ‘I love you’.

“It’s says here Mr. Morales you’re previously divorced. Do you have proof of dissolution? Otherwise you may not proceed with your application.” She asks as she continues to hold the papers that she hasn’t looked at yet, not even looking away from the screen.

“Yes. It’s in the with the other papers. It was an amicable dissolution, we both signed and agreed to end the marriage—“

“I don’t need your life story sir, just the proper paperwork.”

“Right. Sorry, ma’am.” 3 more squeezes to his sweaty hand, thankful that Frankie is handling her crankiness so calmly and with a smile. She clearly has been doing this for years and has zero intention of small talk.

Her fingers continue to click more buttons and she scans through the papers, inputting the information into the proper boxes. And after what feels like a long process, she’s printing out some new documents, stacking them with the ones you’d given her and hands them back to Frankie.

“Please wait for your name to be called.” Barely making eye contact as she adjusts herself in her chair.

“Thank you ma’am. Have a great weekend.”

“Mhmm. Next!”

“Clearly your charming good looks had no effect on her.” You snicker into Frankie’s shoulder as you both walk to the sitting area, trying to keep your comment contained between the two of you.

The minutes tick by, the space is eerily quiet, so you keep talking to a minimum while you wait.

The other chairs are filled with what look like other couples, all most likely there for the same reason.

You take in the sweet older couple who sits across from you. They must be in their 80’s and yet they have a young innocence that seems to envelop them. Their hands anchoring them to each other as they sit snuggled in sweetly. You can’t make out their conversation, but the way she is smiling and looking at him, it feels like she completely taken by him as has been for awhile. He pats her fragile little hands as he talks and every few minutes he looks at her like she’s the only one in the room— your heart nearly implodes at the gentle kiss he gives her forehead.

It’s like you’re looking at a glimpse of your future. A love so authentic and undying, strong enough to endure hardships, a vivid and passionate life together that never gets tiring.

The soft whisper of your name catches your attention.

“You okay?” 3 gentle squeezes to your hand, the reciprocated gesture tugging at your heart.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just happy to be here with you.” You smile emphasizing your words.

“Alight, we have Morales up next! Please make your way through these doors and the commissioner is waiting for you up at the front.”

*

Entering the room, you’re welcomed by a lady standing behind a wooden podium— she’s already more inviting than the older one at the front desk.

Frankie’s hand is anchored to your lower back as you both make your way closer to her. Frankie hands her the papers she’s needs and you both wait for her to begin.

“Welcome. I have a few more couples after you so let’s get started. Do you have any witnesses with you today?”

“No ma’am we do not.”

“Okay, that’s fine, not a requirement in the state of Florida. And will you be exchanging rings today?”

“No ma’am, we do not have rings.”

“Well, this might just be the easiest one today.” She laughs a bit as she shuffled her papers around a bit.

“I’m going to ask you both to face each other while I read the declaration of intent.”

You can feel the emotions already flowing through you, as you look at Frankie. This man has gifted you with so much in such a short amount of time and you can’t help but feel so grateful for this life you’re about to begin.

“Please join hands.”

Frankie takes yours in his, his is touch is the most powerful thing you have ever felt.

“Francisco, do you take—“ There’s an pang in your chest as she says your name, but it’s not a heavy feeling, it’s light and airy as she continues reading from her paper. “To be your lawful wedded partner?”

“I do.”

His thumb sweeps back and forth across the top of your hand, his smile is beaming with elation.

“… do you take Francisco to be your lawful wedding partner?”

“I do.” There’s a slight crack when you say it, emotion fully overtaking your voice.

“… you have come here today on your own free will and declared your love for one and other.”

Tears begin to fall from your eyes as you look back at Frankie, your whole body feels like it’s floating on a blissful cloud. He wipes each tear and gently rubs your cheekbone, you lean into his touch.

“You have joined yourselves in matrimony. May you aim all your lives to meet this commitment and celebrate

in each other's company. And now that you have given and pledged your love and have stated so by joining

hands, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the State of Florida as Deputy Marriage Commissioner, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss.”

And you do. It’s unlike any kiss you have ever experienced before. It’s all-encompassing and heart-stopping, pouring out all the love you have for one another— his lips feel like forever.

Wedded bliss is intoxicating. An indescribable feeling of starting this new chapter together and looking forward to a future where it’s the two of you steadfast in your fidelity and aspirations.

*

Driving straight from the courthouse, you’d both felt slightly over dressed at your favorite restaurant, it’s casual setting a stark contrast from your wedding attire. In the short time together, you’d both become regulars, dining in or takeout had become a weekly occurrence.

Frankie had made the reservation and must have mentioned it was a special occasion because the table is nestled in a corner that was secluded from the rest of the restaurant. Lit candles and small arrangement of flowers placed in the center.

You couldn’t have imagined a more perfect post wedding celebration. Indulging in your favorite dishes as you reflect on the day, it all still feeling surreal and fresh. The staff also gifting a slice of cake, a little congratulations on your new marriage.

“How long should we keep it from them? Santi’s going to be pissed when he finds out. I can already see that assholes face.”

You laugh because you know he’s right, but you know he’ll be happy for you both, they all will.

“How about we wait a month. Then we can invite everyone over for dinner, the weather’s been nice too, so maybe we pull out the bbq even and we tell them then. I mean, we made it 6 months engaged and none of them had a single clue. I like the thought of this being between us for a little bit.”

“That sounds like a great plan.” He leans over and looks at you with an almost devilish smirk. “Now, let’s get home so I can get you out of that fucking dress.”

“Mr. Morales, you have quiet the mouth on you.” You tease amusingly.

“Well Mrs. Morales, this mouth also has plans for you this evening.” His tone hushed as he spoke, a wink to seal his response.

You close the space between you, feeling his plush lips against yours. “Then take me home soldier.” Your tongue peeking out, the softest lick to his lips before pulling away and settling back into your chair.

“Can we get the check?!”

*

It was dark by the time Frankie pull the truck into the drive way. The stars like little fireflies lighting the sky and the moon silently vigilant as it settles in for the night.

“Did we leave a light on before we left?” Unbuckling yourself and noticing a faint light illuminating the front room, a slight panic creeping in your eyes.

“Hmm, I thought we turned them all off. Go head on in and check it out, I’m gonna lock up the truck and grab the leftovers.”

Thankfully the door is secured and you don’t see any sign of a break-in or anything out of place, relief washing over you.

Stepping through the threshold into the house you’re met with an unexpected sight. Dozens of white roses on every surface surround the open room, the floor draped in a sea of white petals. Bouquets covering the kitchen island where small candles are lit, the glow you saw from the window, more bouquets as you look into the living room.

You’re completely speechless and in awe of the beauty of the room and you’re so confused trying to figure out where they all came from. Clearly someone did break in? But decorated with flowers and locked up after they left…

Footsteps through the doorway bring your attention back to your surroundings, their presence stopping behind you.

“Frankie? What are all these flowers doing here?”

He doesn’t respond, but you can sense that he’s there. Pulling your eyes away from the flowers you turn to face Frankie, except he’s not level with you when you do so.

There before you is Frankie, your husband, kneeling on one knee looking up at you holding a small box in his hands.

“Frankie?” A wave of shock and elation crash over you in a matter of seconds. “What are you doing?”

“Hermosa… I know you said you didn’t need some big extravagant proposal and seeing as how we just got married just a few hours ago 6 months after meeting, we definitely don’t follow traditions.” His voice is so soft, and his eyes have never looked brighter.

“This is me promising you a future, a life where you are not alone. From the moment I met you, I knew I wanted to be apart of your life in some capacity and I wanted to make you smile everyday because it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Everyday I wake and think of you and when I sleep I think of you, you consume me with your laughter and your words of encouragement and your ability to live without abandonment.” You gasp as he slowly opens the small box revealing a ring. The design is simple and elegant, a beautiful stone setting with a unique design on a wider gold band.

“Te amo Hermosa. Will you be mine forever?”

You can’t stop the tears that are pouring down your face, you can’t even properly form any words as you nod your head reaching out for him, standing to his full height, placing the ring on your finger.

“I just need to double check that was a yes?”

“Yes! A million times yes!” You laugh through the still streaming tears, swatting at his chest as you look down at your hand, the ring sitting perfectly on your finger.

“How did you manage to get this all set up? It’s beautiful by the way.”

“I enlisted Hannah to help.”

“Hannah knows?!”

“No. No she doesn’t know what it was for exactly. I just said I wanted to surprise you after a dinner with flowers, I didn’t realize she was going to go all out. Remind me to check my credit card later.”

You kiss him, soaking in the moment with him. “I love you Frankie.” You whisper against his lips before you begin kissing him again.

“Wait, there’s one more thing.” He states as he pulls out his phone. “I also had Hannah show me how to use my phone with the speaker, something about blue teeth?”

It takes him a minute to get it connected, but he manages to get it hooked up. Music begins to play, it’s a softer song and you realize it’s one of your favorites. You’ve played it numerous times over the last few months, claiming that the song remind you of yours and Frankie’s love for each other.

“Can I have this dance?” Tossing his phone to the couch and holding his hand out to you.

“Always.”

The song played on as you both held each other, the soft sway of your bodies around the room. The flicker of the candles still adding a touch of light, laughter and kisses exchanged as he spins you about.

This was only the beginning.

[pensat-i-fet]

I want you to stay (Pablo Gavi x Reader)

**Another cute fluffy request I had a great time writing. Apologies to any Danish speakers if the article I used for the few words in your language that I included deceived me. And enjoy reading! ❤️❤️ **

Word count: 2726

Masterlist

Wattpad

“Why don’t you come to my office later so we can go through the different internship options?”

“Sure. Is 4 ok?”

“Perfect. See you there”.

You left your class ready to pick up some food on your little break before the last two lessons of the day. Finally, after two years in uni, it was time to look at potential internships. You knew that was what could really get you a job after uni, not just the good grades.

At 3.55, always punctual, you arrived at your professor’s office. And when you got inside, you noticed all the pieces of paper on her desk.

“Hi. Sorry I’m early”.

“It’s ok, sit down, please. So, we’ve got a lot of options here for you. Let me tell you about them”.

She went through all the possible internships and it was a bit overwhelming for you. You expected two or three…not fifteen.

“Roger really wants this one but I think you’d be a better candidate”.

That caught your attention. Roger had been your nemesis during the whole time you were in uni. Always fighting to see who got the best grades and overall being way too competitive. So…the idea of taking the internship he wanted was appealing.

“It’s for Barça. They need someone for their media team. You know, to script and help film the videos for social media”.

“Why do you think I’m a good candidate? If you don’t mind me asking. It’s just that I’m not a football fan”.

“I know, but you are the most creative. Your ideas for assignments have always been the most original and I think you’d fit right in. Football is secondary. They won’t be expecting you to know about it. Just to create content the fans like”.

There wasn’t much time to think about it so you quickly thought about all the pros and cons for each option. And even if you weren’t too proud to say it, the biggest pro ended up being pissing your enemy off.

“I’ll take the Barça job”.

Three weeks later, you were in the Barça offices, being told everything that was expected from you and it was a lot. Did they realise you were just an intern and still had to do a lot of things for uni?

“Some players are a bit more…complicated”.

“You mean they are divas”, nothing you didn’t expect.

“I meant shy. Divas are great for this, actually. They love talking on camera. The shy ones…”.

“Who’s the one you struggle with the most?”, you asked, now curious.

“Gavi. And we know him being in the videos will give us so many more views but he just doesn’t want to do them. He gets too uncomfortable and we don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t want to do”.

Even if you weren’t a big football fan, you knew Gavi. Who in Barcelona didn’t? But it surprised you to find out he was shy. He didn’t look it on the pitch.

“I can help with that”, your statement was met with a raised eyebrow. “What?”

“If you get Gavi to be in more than one video, I’ll give you a real contract. Not just an internship”.

You laughed nervously. He was joking, right?

“I’m not joking. I know you have great references from teachers but those of us who’ve known him since he was a little boy can’t get him to do it so I’m not sure how you’d be able to".

“I’ll find a way”.

If there was something you loved, it was a challenge.

                                        **

For your first couple of days, you didn’t really get to bring your ideas to the table but to see how everyone else worked. You tried to absorb as much information as possible.

“So…what would you like to do for your first video?”, asked one of your new colleagues.

“I thought a challenge could be fun. There is a Champions League match coming so how about a language one? We have a Danish speaker in the team, so we can get another player to try and say something in his language. It’s always fun to see them getting it all wrong”.

“Sounds great. We haven’t used Andreas much for videos either so good idea. Who do you think should be the other player?”

“Gavi”.

Did he really snort? “We can’t get him to speak Spanish and you want him to speak Danish. Are you a secret Madrid fan?”

“No, I just think it’s time for him to do more videos. I’ll sort it out”.

“You keep dreaming big. I guess it’s good for our profession”.

All these comments were getting to you. How hard could it be to get Gavi to film a video?

“Ga…”, should you call him by his nickname or his real name? Maybe nickname is better. “Gavi! Hi! Could you come here a second?”

He turned to look at whoever was talking to him while he was on his way to the dressing room. That voice…he didn’t recognise it.

“Who is…hi. Sorry, who are you?”

“I’m new here. I’m working for the media team and need you to do a video for us so I wanted to let you know in person. Just in case you had questions about it”.

“I don’t…have you not been told I don’t like being in videos?”

You realised then how shy he really was. And you actually found that so cute.

“I have. But I think it’ll be good for you to do them more often. So you get used to it. Do you like Christensen?”

“Sure. He’s really nice”.

“Amazing! You’re doing a video with him tomorrow at 2. See you there!”

The option of not giving him time to refuse wasn’t perfect but it’d have to do for now. You left the area with a little smile on your face. But because you didn’t stay to see his reaction, you didn’t see Gavi was smiling too. He didn’t know where you came from all of a sudden but he was intrigued. And if filming a video was the way to get to know you…well, maybe it was time to face his fears.

                                    **

“He’s actually here”, said one of the cameramen, making you look at him.

“Who?”

“Gavi”.

You couldn’t hide your smile when you turned to look at him. He looked so out of place. And then you noticed some movement by the door.

“Who’s there?”

“My stupid teammates who have been mocking me since they found out I’m filming a video”, said Gavi, rolling his eyes.

“Do you want me to kick them out? I can look very scary”.

He just laughed and shook his head. And you left him there to keep on getting everything ready for the video. Gavi kept looking at you moving around the room and then noticed his phone buzzing.

[Barça groupchat]: now we know why you said yes to the video 🤣

He shook his head again and locked the phone, taking a final look at his teammates who left laughing at him.

“Ok boys, sit there and here you have the script, Andreas. We just need you to read the sentences so Gavi can copy you and then guess what it means”.

“Right”, said Gavi, swallowing and wondering why he got himself in this mess.

“I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry”, laughed Andreas.

And so they started to film the video. The little intro you had written for them took longer than you thought and you ended up asking Andreas to say the lines instead to see if he was more comfortable in front of the camera.

“Stop worrying”, you told Gavi, touching his shoulder. “Just forget about the camera. You’re here with your teammate, who you get on well with. Imagine you’re chatting in the dressing room before the match. It’s just you two here”.

“And you”.

“Do you want me to leave?”, you joked.

“No. I want you to stay”.

Now it was your time to be nervous, feeling his intense gaze on you. But you just nodded and left to go back behind the camera.

“Hvordan har du det?”, said Andres, making Gavi stare at him with wide eyes.

“Oh God…can you do it word by word?”

And so Andreas did, slowly pronouncing each word and waiting for his teammate to repeat them.

“That wasn’t bad. What do you think it means?”

“No clue”, laughed Gavi.

“It just means how are you. Ok, next one: Hvad hedder du?”

“Which means?”

“What’s your name”, answered the Danish defender. “And then you would answer Jeg hedder and your name. So for you it’s Jeg hedder Gavi”.

“Jeg hedder Gavi. I’ll say that at the match”.

Everyone in the room laughed and Gavi turned to look at them. He had almost forgotten they were there. But when he saw you smiling, his nerves were back.

“That was great, guys. People will love the video. Thank you”.

Gavi approached you while you were making sure all the footage was ok. “Thank you, for the advice. It really helped”.

“Do you think you’ll do more videos in the future then?”

“I guess. If you’re here helping, maybe”.

You smiled at that. See? It wasn’t that hard to get him to film a video.

“I’ll take that as a compliment”.

“It was”.

That stare again…it was making you blush. “Then promise me you’ll film a video with Pedri so everyone can shut up about it”.

“I’ll think about it”, he said, but his smile said he’ll do it. If it meant spending more time with you, he will film as many videos as you wanted him to. But hopefully, he would just have to speak Spanish on the next one.

                                   **

The weeks passed and your crush on Gavi kept growing more and more every day. He was always trying to find ways to see you most days, even if he still hadn’t been asked to film another video.

When you were gone for two days, because of your uni exams, he panicked thinking you were gone. And seeing his overreaction when you were finally back didn’t help with the crush. Because…could he possibly feel the same way about you? You didn’t allow yourself to daydream much about it but the idea was still there.

“Gavi!”

“Pablo”.

“What?”

“Stop calling me Gavi, my friends call me Pablo”.

“Your teammates don’t”, you said, confused. He seemed to be friends with many of them.

“It’s different. They are football friends”.

“And I’m not?”

That stumped him. What were you? He couldn’t really put a proper label on how he saw you.

“Just call me Pablo”.

“Ok…Pablo”, you said dramatically. “I need that video with Pedri so no more excuses. It’s happening”.

“What do I get in return?”

“The satisfaction of knowing you’re making your fans very happy?”

He shook his head playfully. “Not enough. Come to the match with me”.

“The match? Of course I’m going, I need to get content from it. And you’ll be playing. Have you hit your head again?”

“Not that match. The Barça Athletic match from tonight. None of the boys are going and I don’t want to be alone. So you can come with me”.

He actually didn’t know if any of the boys were going but hoped they weren’t or it’d be hard to explain.

“So I’m like…20th choice?”, you laughed.

First choice, actually. “Pleeeeasse, come with me”.

“Ok. But you’re doing the video”.

“I’ll do all the videos you want”.

“Be careful making those promises”.

A few hours later, you were getting ready for the match. What should you wear? Gavi had only ever seen you wearing Barça clothes but this wasn’t a date, right? And it was a match, you couldn’t dress up too much. And if it wasn’t a date, why did you care so much about what you were wearing?

“Where are you going?”, asked your sister, getting into the room.

“A match”.

“You’re working today? I thought the match was tomorrow”.

“It’s not work. I’m going to watch one”.

“You’re going to watch football?”

“Yeah, I was invited to go…”.

“Who invited you?”

You didn’t answer right away but your sister knew you well. And the way you were blushing was very telling.

“Just someone from work”.

“Someone from the media team?”, she tried first.

“No”.

“A player?”

“I need to go”, you said, trying to leave the room but she stopped you grabbing your arm.

“Which one?”

“It’s not a date. It’s just me going to a match. I’m trying to learn about football”.

“Sure…which one?”

“Gavi”.

“And you’re wearing that?”

Thank you for the boost of confidence, you thought.

“It’s not a date”.

“Right”, she said winking at you, “not a date. But let’s pretend it is and dress like you’re going to one”.

She helped you pick an outfit that was cute but not too much for the place you were going to. And after wishing you good luck, you left to go to the stadium. The nerves got worse the closer you got there but when you saw Gavi, looking so cute with his hood on, you relaxed. It was just him, you’d be fine.

“I almost didn’t recognize you with that disguise on”.

“It works sometimes”, he said, looking down embarrassed.

“Really?”

He ignored your jokes and told you to follow him so you could go to your seats.

Once the match started, you both concentrated on watching the players. Gavi murmured things every once in a while and it took you a second to understand he was telling the players what to do. So cute.

At halftime, you decided to stay there while people left to go grab some food or use the toilet. It took him 45 minutes but Gavi finally found the courage to speak to you about…well, you. No work stuff, no football…he wanted to get to know you.

"So, would you like to stay at Barça after the internship? I know you have to finish your degree but I’m sure they would wait for you. Everyone speaks highly of you".

"Not really", you said, making him frown. That’s not what he wanted to hear.

"Why?"

"Can I tell you a secret?", he nodded. "I only took this internship because of a rivalry with another student. I don't even like football".

You laughed but he didn't find it funny.

"Why are you even here then?", he asked, harshly.

“What do you mean? I had to do an internship. And I’m glad I took this. I’ve had fun”.

“Fun…yeah”.

“Pablo, are you ok?”

“I’m great. Just…let’s watch the match”.

“It didn’t start again”, you pointed out, worried by his mood change. You’ve seen him doing that on the pitch but not off it.

“I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back”.

When he got back, he just sat down and barely acknowledged you. And it hurt. What had you done for him to act like this?

“Are you mad at me or something?”, you finally asked, not liking the silence between you two.

“Why are you here?”

"Because you invited me".

"Well, soon you won't have to bother with my invitations or with having to babysit me when I film videos or whatever".

"You're not bothering me and I’m not babysitting you. I’m just doing my job".

“A job you didn’t want to do”, he muttered.

“Just because I didn’t love the idea at first doesn’t mean I don’t love the job now”.

“You don’t love it enough to stay”.

When he finally looked at you, you noticed he looked sad. Was he sad because of you not staying at the club? And what did it mean if he was?

“Do you want me to stay?”, he nodded, looking away. “Do you realize not staying at the club doesn’t have to mean we will never see each other again, right?”

That made him look at you again. “It doesn’t? I’m too used to people coming and going from my life so…that’s not an option I thought of”.

“So, do you want me to stay?”

“I already told you I do. And it’s not just me, other players really enjoy having you around and…”.

“No, Pablo”, you interrupted him. “That’s not what I mean now. I mean, do you want me to stay in your life?”

“Yes”.

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles Leclerc

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 7/? Word count: 1362 Co writer: @mistrose23 Story summary: Matilde Jørgensen, the new Scuderia Ferrari team principal, faced the nerve-wracking challenge of reviving the team's fortunes and aiming for a championship. Leading a historic team as a 'newbie' and separating her work and personal opinions posed a significant challenge. The big question: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 5. Danish Standards

Matilde was glad she had a moment for herself after a long day full of media duties. Usually, the Thursdays were easy on her. But this year... She was still trying to figure out how to deal with it. She was quite a social person, however, socialising for hours was asking for a lot of her energy. The last meeting had just finished and the track was open to the employees, so Matilde took her shot and decided to go for a track walk. Only to find out she had forgotten her earphones to listen to a podcast. She recently started to listen to 'Help I Sexted My Boss', it was a great podcast by William Hanson and Jordan North to just laugh and think about nothing but the bizarre things they tell. She also loved Leo Skepi, he was teaching about self transformation, but Matilde just loved his energy. But whenever she didn't want to be thinking about serious things, she would listen to William and Jordan.

"Hej," a manly voice said when Matilde just entered the first corner of the track.

Matilde looked next to her and raised her eyebrows, but quickly politely smiled when she noticed it was Haas' driver Kevin Magnussen. "Hej," she replied, slightly confused. It was not like they didn't know each other, they are both Danish and they both work within Formula 1, but they barely spoke to each other.

"This will probably sound weird," Kevin began and joined her for her walk. "By the way, do you mind if I join you?"

"No, please join me."

"Okay, well, hear me out. Louise, my wife, and I went to a birthday party last week. It was the birthday of her best friend and I know her husband. We met a couple of years ago and we hang out regurlarly. His name is Lars Jørgensen. And your last name is Jørgensen. Do you know someone called Lars Jørgensen?"

The eyes of Matilde lightened up. "The teacher?"

"The teacher..." Kevin slowly said, understanding that Matilde knew Lars Jørgensen.

"Yes, that is my brother."

He shook his head and chuckled. "The bastard." He looked at the Danish woman. "It sounds so stupid, but he always spoke about his little sister, living in England, working with cars. He never said it was you, not even last week. And I didn't make the connection until... Literally five minutes ago."

A laugh rolled over Matilde's lips. "It's a small world," she said, still smiling. "But it's quite a known and popular name. I'm surprised we never saw each other at Lene's birthday, like never before."

"Well, we probably did see each other, but didn't realise."

"But it's not like you are an upcoming driver."

"True, unlike you. Honestly, before this season, I never heard of you. Well, not within the motorsport."

"Fair." Matilde realised how nice it was to have a conversation in Danish. Being surrounded by Italian people, or Italian speaking people, was tiring. She was still learning the language and the people in her team barely spoke English. And no one spoke in her mother language.

He was silent for a moment. "I can't process this," he said and chuckled. "Lene and Louise are best friends. Why did Lars never say a word?"

Matilde threw her hands up in the air and laughed. "I have no idea. I mean, he is quite private about his personal life. But other than that, I have no clue."

"Well, I guess we can't blame him now," Kevin laughed. "It's a small world, and yet sometimes connections slip through the cracks."

"It does," she agreed.

They continued walking along the track. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the asphalt, and a gentle breeze rustled over the circuit. While they spoke about their friends and family, Matilde glanced around, taking in the ambience. They both enjoyed the talk, it was about everything but work. It was pleasant to have a talk in your native language, regardless of the person. And the fact that they have a common connection, an important connection, made it even more fun.

When they arrived at the fake harbour, they stumbled against another connection they both had, but didn't know of. Kevin's whistle drew the attention of a runner passing by.

"Bill!"

The runner looked over his shoulder and turned around to run towards them. "Nå, hva 'så?" Asking what was up. He stopped in front of the two people. "What's going on here then?" A playful glint came in his eyes.

"Just two Danes taking a walk on the track," Kevin replied. "Do you know-"

Billi raised an eyebrow, pretending to look scandalised. "A walk?"

"Ah, crap, you caught us. We're actually secret track inspectors, making sure everything is up to Danish standards," Matilde joined the jesting.

"Ah, of course," Billi sagely nodded. "Very important work."

Kevin looked between Matilde and Billi. "Anyway, Bill, Matilde. Matilde, Bill."

Matilde shared a smile with Billi, the good looking Latvian doctor on the medical team, who also happened to speak Danish. The man had deep blue eyes, his beard was trimmed and he just had a haircut. The t-shirt around his torso was slightly too tight, defining his muscles even more. And Matilde knew him too well.

"Come here," Billi said and widened his arms.

Matilde raised her eyebrows. "I will pass, Billi. I'm not waiting for the sweat shower," she widely smiled.

"Oh, come on, it's not like you have not-"

"Next time."

Billi padded her shoulder lightly, slightly uncomfortable.. "It's so good to see you, Mati."

"I'm glad to see you," she smiled.

"Also a connection?" Kevin then asked, watching the two with raised eyebrows.

"Friends," Billi proudly said and wrapped his arm around Matilde's shoulder, making Matilde step away which caused them to giggle.

Kevin looked at Matilde. "I swear, the next time I want to introduce you to someone I know, I will first ask if you know them."

A laugh rolled over Matilde's lips. "Coincidence."

"She practically got connections in every corner of the paddock," Billi said.

She huffed and shook her head. "I wish."

"I will remember that next time I need a favour," Kevin said, having a playful glint in his eyes.

They continued to exchange jokes and laughter, enjoying the lighthearted atmosphere. The three of them strolled along the asphalt towards the pits, sharing stories and poking fun at each other. When the three entered the pitlane, Charles and Carlos were also entering the pitlane; they decided to run a lap as well.

Matilde, Billi and Kevin were so engrossed in their conversation that they didn't notice the two Ferrari drivers. Charles and Carlos, on the other hand, had their attention squarely fixed on their team principal, fellow driver and doctor of the medical team. They observed the easy camaraderie between the three, the constant laughter that seemed to be a part of their interaction.

When the Ferrari drivers passed the trio, Charles leaned over to Carlos. "Did you see that?" he muttered quietly.

Carlos squeezed his eyebrows together and stopped running as their lap was completed. "Yeah, they seem to be having a great time. Why?"

"She has fun with everyone," Charles replied, "Everyone but our team."

Carlos chuckled. "Come on. You know she's just being professional with us." He noticed how Charles looked over his shoulder, looking at the group. "She's the boss, after all."

Charles mumbled something under his breath, still not looking away from the trio ahead. He couldn't quite shake off the feeling of annoyance at the sight. It was as if the friendship on display highlighted the distance between Matilde and the Ferrari team, and in particular, himself.

"And she joined us at a very weird time, she's probably still adjusting to the team. She had her contacts from her previous role, plus she had been out of the scene for months. Give her sometime," Carlos continued. "Maybe you should join them for a track walk next time. Who knows, you might find yourself enjoying some Scandi vibes."

"Is Bill from Scandinavia?"

Carlos shrugged. "He is from somewhere up there. Magnussen and Matilde are Danish and Bill seems to keep up with their conversation." He padded Charles' shoulder. "But join them and find out."

A half-hearted chuckle rolled over Charles' lips. "We will see."

Next chapter

[hayleysayshay]

I rly just saw someone suggest Eurovision enforce Ireland singing in Irish… I’d love for an Irish Gaelic song but it’s a minority language, Irish ppl aren’t more or less Irish for being able to speak Gaelic or not so it would be batshit to enforce this.

I’ve seen a couple dodgy comments from racist trolls about Ukraine sending a black man singing in English as he’s not ‘really Ukrainian’ and it’s just Ukraine trying to look ‘woke’ compared to last year’s ‘very ukranian’ song when like, what does it matter where he was originally from or what language he’s singing, he’s representing Ukraine. This is who Ukraine want to represent them, it’s a ukranian song stfu.

I agree with the homogenous English language is a detriment and I want National languages to have a presence and I want to have a variety of musical style. But I don’t think ppl realise how enforcing language rules is a slippery slope to yikes town. A song representing a country is Swiss/Latvian/Ukranian/Danish etc, no matter the language or musical styling. Like people listen to electronic dance pop, big shock that a lot of countries send electronic dance pop, if a country sent a song in national folk stylings every year it would get repetitive and honestly this has never been a part of Eurovision culture, in the past we got a lot of Shlaeger style ballads and pop songs, basically the same genre, so pretending that really represented the country’s culture just because it was sung in its national language is ludicrious. This may blow peoples mind but Eurovision has always been a pop music show and countries send pop music and pop music is popular music and dance pop is what people are going to send in the current day.

[deathisararemercy]

In Perpetuum et Unum Diem

Death x Reader

You knew for certain that Death knew every language. You, on the other hand, were far from multilingual (or whatever you would call someone who knew literally every language ever). So it came as a surprise to Death when this occurred.

A/N: Loosely inspired by this post by @sunnypop02 (Puss x multilingual!reader), except it's Death x reader who knows languages thought to be "dead" (ie. Latin). I highly recommend reading their fic/post; it's so freaking cute and sweet.

This is my first time writing "x reader" content, and I'm still trying to figure out how to write Death, so please forgive me. This is a little short and I'm still trying to figure out the format I'm going to go with, but I hope it's not too bad. Translations are at the bottom. Let me know if you catch any typos!

You knew for certain that Death knew every language. There was never a barrier between him and any soul he needed to collect (though usually his presence alone spoke more than any words could). You, on the other hand, were far from multilingual (or whatever you would call someone who knew literally every language ever). Death liked to tease you a bit for this, calling you pet names in various languages.

Elskede. Danish. “Beloved.” يا قمر (ya amar). Arabic. “My moon.” Nhà tôi. Vietnamese. “My home.” Mi vida. Spanish. “My life.”

He was sure to translate them for you, making sure that you were comfortable with them and nodding enthusiastically when you were. As far as he was aware, you only knew one language. So it came as a surprise to Death when this occurred.

=x=x=

“Faex.”

“Swear jar.”

The wolf’s ears perked up, while you continued reading your book. It took him a minute to realize what exactly had just happened. He plopped down next to you on the loveseat, cocking his head to the side, perplexed. You looked up, feeling his eyes on you. His gaze was intent.

You set aside the book and readjust yourself so that you’re kneeling on the cushion. You turned towards him, giving him a long and thoughtful stare. “Boop.” You tapped the tip of Death's snout, but he remained motionless, brows knit together. Now it was your turn to worry.

“Uh, oh. Is something wrong?”

“You understood what I said," he said, mystified.

“Yes? What, don’t have anything to put in the swear jar right now? Just because you swear in another language doesn’t mean it doesn’t count.” Teasingly, you wagged a finger at him. “That’s cheating!”

Death laughed a little, and the distance between you decreased. He took your hand and held it to your lips. “Shh. Don’t tell.” You could hear his tail thumping on the seat as he continued, dropping your hand with red eyes burning with excitement, “But wait, wait, wait. If I say this: Amo te. Es pulcherrimum in omnia terra.” He paused, waiting to see your reaction and thrilled to see your flushed cheeks. “Do you understand me?”

“I- I do. And I love you too.”

He was beaming now. “And the ‘pulcherrimum in omnia terra’ part. Do you believe it?”

“Maybe,” you joked, expecting him to laugh it off.

Instead, he drew closer, so close you could kiss him if you leaned a little closer. It would be a lie to say you weren’t tempted to. “You should believe it,” he said tenderly. “You’re the most beautiful in the land.”

And then, he threw his head back, laughing and staring up at the ceiling. “But I can’t believe you know Latin of all languages. Don’t get me wrong, mi vida,” the wolf added hastily, “It really is a great language. I just never thought I’d meet a mortal who knew it again, or at least has some interest in it.”

You shrug. “It’s nothing really. I like reading old stories. I don’t get to speak it much since it’s kind of, you know, dead.”

Scowling, Death took your hands in his. His paws were always cold, but he held your hands with firmness and surety. “It may not be spoken by natives anymore, but it’s not extinct because you still know it. You are one of few keeping a language alive and that’s incredible. Most people wouldn’t care for a dead language. You wouldn’t believe all of the words I know that no one else can ever understand anymore.”

“Couldn’t you teach people, Muerte?”

He shook his head solemnly. “Death is a great teacher, just not of languages. But I’m curious now, apricum,” he grinned. “There was this one old saying and I want to know your thoughts on it. Amantes sunt amentes. You ever heard of it?”

“I think I’ve heard of it before.”

“Well, what do you think? Suntne amantes amentes?”

You gave it some thought and shook your head. “Minime. I think people who are in love may be blind or see their partner in a way that’s different from who they actually are…but I wouldn’t call them ‘lunatics’ or ‘fools’. Isn’t it a really beautiful thing for us to be able to love someone so deeply?”

Death chuckled a bit before falling silent. For a moment, your muscles tightened, and your heart skipped a few beats. Did I say something wrong?

But before you could hastily make out an apology, he planted a kiss on your forehead. “Es pulcherrimum, candidius quam stellam.”

And you manage to catch him by surprise, quickly kissing him back. “Et te amo. In perpetuum et unum diem.”

=x=x=

Death loves having someone to speak this language to. Even if you need to take a little time to process and translate what it is he says, you actually understands it! The souls who would’ve been able to speak or understand it have long since passed, and Death mourns the loss of languages and cultures over time. He's been around since the very beginning, after all.

He encourages you to practice speaking the language for fun. Though he still likes using a variety of pet names for you, he now adds more from dead languages. It's so much fun, saying things he’ll know you understand that no one else will (though now he knows he can’t swear in a dead language anymore unless he wants to put money in the swear jar).

Translations:

Faex: shit

Amo te. Es pulcherrimum in omnia terra.: I love you. You are the most beautiful in the whole land.

Apricum: sunny (I would use lux solaris for ‘sunshine’ or literally ‘light of the sun’ but this is cuter.)

Amantes sunt amentes: Lovers are lunatics (fools).

Suntne amantes amentes?: Are lovers lunatics?

Minime: No.

Es pulcherrimum, candidius quam stellas.: You are the most beautiful, brighter than the stars.

Et te amo. In perpetuum et unum diem.: And I love you. Forever and one day.

[charlidos]

This is an interview with Viggo in Danish, from 2023. (being Swedish, I understand most of it. And Viggo speaks Danish slowly, making it a LOT easier to understand). It's an interview about his film Falling, mostly, and about his parents getting old and sick.

I find it fascinating to just watch him; he's 65 years old, he looks great and he kind of still has the body language of little boy. A little shy, very thoughtful, very natural and quite adorable. If you're allowed to call a 65 yr old man adorable? Well, now I just did anyway. :)

Viggo is also a very good example of how different you can seem depending on what language you speak. I feel like he speaks and acts differently while speaking English, Spanish, Danish or French. I just listened to a podcast (at around 24 mins) with him in French and he mentioned himself that he does act differently depending on the language and that even his gestures can change. I think he speaks quite fast in Spanish, a lot faster than in both English and Danish. Spanish just is that kind of language, I guess? Temperamental. While Danish isn't. I guess he speaks French slowly, since it's not a language he speaks a 100 % (but still so very beautifully, and with a slight Quebecois tint).

Speaking a language is not just using words, after all, it's also a cultural expression. I feel that Viggo's talents for acting, also makes it easier for him to learn different languages and how you behave while speaking them. But he also said that he works quite hard at learning languages. I'm in awe of his language skills.

Viggo really is an endlessly fascinating, brilliant, beautiful, lovely man.

[givemea-dam-break]

ephemeral - chapter three

a/n: i hope you all enjoy this - the next part will have a lot more going on, i promise!

warnings: mild language gn reader

full collection: here

The next morning is spent at 35 Portland Row, the four of you - you, Lockwood, Lucy, and George - pouring over the contents of the file you stole not even twelve hours ago. Still, after a comfortable nap in Lucy's bed, you feel as if you've been running only recently, heart pounding and feet aching. Nothing a good brew won't fix.

"It looks like the mansion used to be home to this family - the Mortons - in the early eighteen-hundreds," George says, pushing his glasses up his nose. "All of them died in a house fire, save for the only daughter and her son. Some theories suggest she started the fire so that her son would inherit the money instead of one of her six brothers, but it was never confirmed. She went mad a few years later while they were living in northern England after the son died from tuberculosis when he was eight."

Lucy frowns, taking a bite out of her glazed doughnut. A few crumbs fall on her pyjamas. "Bit grim. So, do we think it's the dead family haunting the mansion? I mean, they were killed in the fire - if not murdered - so they've possibly got a reason to come back."

"The report says there were at least five Type Twos," you say, carefully sipping your tea so as to not spill it over the aged paper. "Two men, three women. A mix of Phantasms and Wraiths. The kid who died was ghost-touched by one of the Phantasms. The one who was driven mad had been ghost-locked by a Wraith. The supervisor barely got that one and the other agent out alive. Wait..."

"What is it?" Lockwood leans over the arm of his chair, his face coming far too close to yours.

"My old supervisor - she was one of the kids on that case."

"Hanna Reid?" Lockwood takes the report from your hand, scanning over the writing.

"She was your supervisor?" George asks. "Maybe we could ask her for help, see what advice she could give."

You shake your head, taking the report back from Lockwood and trying to ignore how his fingers brush yours almost purposefully. "No, she never spoke about her cases, really. She was a good supervisor, but she wasn't entirely there, you know? Besides, it'd reveal that we were the ones that broke in yesterday. All that would lead to is DEPRAC arresting us and Steve Rotwell sending this company into an early grave."

"So we can't ask her for help," Lockwood says. "What else do we know? Do we have a layout of the mansion, anything else the report itself tells us?"

"Here's the layout," Lucy says, pushing forward an architectural plan. "Big place. It's got a ballroom and everything."

George takes the plan. "The fire originated in the east wing of the house, over by the drawing room, but the report says that the team found a source in the ballroom under the floorboards. Obviously, it wasn't the only source, because there are ghosts still lingering."

"This is assuming these ghosts are the same ones from almost two decades ago," Lockwood reminds you all. "Could be a completely different set of Visitors. They might well have triggered a new haunting."

Lucy groans. "How are we meant to be prepared for tonight? This kind of case needs a few days' worth of preparation, not one morning."

"Not to make things worse," George says, "but Miss Jeffries called earlier on, Lockwood. We're prohibited from using magnesium flares seeing as her party is tomorrow night and she doesn't want her mansion blown to pieces."

Now you groan, plucking an Apricot Danish from the plate on the coffee table. "So a repeat of Combe Carey Hall, then, except this time we won't even have a smuggled-in bomb flare."

"I could arrange something," Lockwood says, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"No, I don't think that'd be a good idea," George says. "As much as I'd love to get my eardrums assaulted again, we have to go about this all differently."

Lockwood doesn't let that discourage him. "Well, we'll stock up on extra salt bombs, and I can head to Satchel's to pick up some heavy-duty chains."

"Lucy, go with him, won't you?" you say around your pastry. "Make sure he doesn't get flares. I'll pack the bags here."

If the prospect of getting dressed and leaving the house bothers Lucy, she doesn't show it. "I've missed you mothering him."

The comment stops you cold. George chokes on his biscuit. Lockwood isn't moving. Lucy's eyes widen.

"Sorry, I didn't mean -"

"It's fine," you say, swallowing. It's his fault I've not been here to do it. "I'm going to go pack our kits. George, here are the rest of the reports. I'll be in the basement."

--

One of Lucy's mixtapes is blaring from the speakers down in the basement, and the loud music is a good distraction from your thoughts. With it playing, you can focus on oiling the chains you've picked out and packing the kits with everything you might need. Salt bombs - you've spent a good hour or so making another batch - along with packets of gum in each bag to save George having to figure out who's got it, some snacks unique to each person, a flask of tea in Lockwood's for everyone to share. Once the chains are finished, you wind them up as tightly as you can manage and shove them into the kits.

The whole routine comes to you too easily. It isn't hard to forget everything and pretend, and, oh, how you would love to pretend that the past eight months never happened, but you have to keep reminding yourself that it did. After this case, you'll never see Lockwood again.

It surprises you how much it hurts to think about that. You hate him for what he did, and he probably doesn't particularly like you after things you said that extended far past calling him a conceited asshole, but, surprisingly, you hate the thought of never seeing him again more.

This is just a taste of what it would be like to be with the team again, and you've found yourself enjoying it. You've no issue with Lucy or George, but even being with Lockwood isn't nearly as bad as you thought it would be. Do you really never want to see him again?

I'll stay away until you're ready to speak to me again, or forever if I have to.

A little part of you is smiling at the memory of his words. The arrogant prick knew you wouldn't be able to stay away.

"Am I interrupting something?"

You jump, turning to find George at the foot of the basement stairs. "Oh, George, hey! No, you're not. I've just finished packing our kits."

"Oh, ok, just that you were staring at Skull for longer than any sane person would manage."

"Was I?" You look over at the skull trapped in the Silverglass jar, the Type Three only Lucy can speak to, and cringe as he pulls a grotesque face. "Right. Everything alright, George?"

"Lockwood's just called. He and Lucy have stocked up on more chains, filings, the sorts, and want us to meet them at the train station so we can head to the mansion. Better to get a feel for the place as soon as."

"Have you got the information you need?"

George takes off his glasses, cleaning the lenses on his jumper. "Some, but I'll admit, I don't feel good about this case. We've had even less time to prepare than we did for Combe Carey, and we're going in almost completely blind as to what we're facing. Will it be the ghosts of the family? Some other ones we don't know about?"

You can tell that the whole thing is frustrating him even more than he's showing. For George not to have found much on the mansion outwith what you got in the folder from the Rotwell archives, it must be infuriating. You know how much he hates not knowing things.

"Right," he says. "I'll get my shoes on, then we'll go."

And so you do.

Lockwood and Lucy are already at the station when you both arrive, hoisting heavy chains over their shoulders. By the time you reach them, you're sweating from carrying two kit bags plus Lucy's rucksack in which Skull resides. Your respect for Lucy has only increased after having to lug the heavy case around.

"Extra salt bombs are at the top of all the kit bags," you say, handing Lucy her bag and rucksack. "Your belts are also there, with even more salt bombs and pouches of the usual filings. Two sets of chains in mine and Lockwood's bags, one in Lucy's and George's. I've also put some snacks and tea in. Figured we'd get hungry before the night's even over."

Lockwood grins. "You're the best, (name)."

"I know I am. I wouldn't be here otherwise." You reach into your kit bag and pull out a paper bag, infinitely glad the contents haven't leaked. "Oh, also, milkshakes for everyone, courtesy of Arif."

You pass them around - strawberry and chocolate for Lucy, banana for George, your own unique recipe for yourself, and mint chocolate for Lockwood. It feels nice to hand them out, even nicer to have been able to remember their favourites.

Eventually, you all board the train, sipping milkshakes as the air conditioning whirs quietly. The train is packed with people going on holiday, but the four of you manage to get yourselves a table seat, thanks to your heavy kits and gleaming rapiers.

Although you're providing a vital service, you still get glares from some of the passengers. You remind them of exactly what they're trying to escape.

"So, what's new?" Lockwood asks.

George, who sits beside him, spreads his notes out along with a few sheets from the report and images of the house and its layout. Lucy moves his milkshake out of the way.

"Not much, honestly," George says. "Thanks, Lucy. Okay, well, like I said earlier, the source that had been found by the last team was here in the ballroom, but there has to be at least one more seeing as more ghosts attacked on their way out."

"So what are you thinking?" you ask.

He's got that sparkle in his eye again. "There are at least two ghosts left, a Wraith and a Phantasm, but I called up one of the maids who had been working at the mansion and asked her a few questions. She's younger, not young enough to still have any Talents, but her senses are still more heightened than her coworkers. She said the first time she felt one of the ghosts had been on the second floor, up where the servants' rooms are, when she was heading to bed. The second time, the feeling followed her around the house as she was finishing up.

"Another one of the maids was ghost-touched as she was leaving, right at the front doors. Thankfully, she was driven to the nearest hospital in time to get an adrenaline shot and she's in recovery now. Some of the others have commented about feeling like they're being followed or chased, but after the ghost-touch, none of them will set foot in the house."

Taking a sip of his milkshake, Lockwood says, "So, we've got ghosts immediately on the ground floor and then on the second floor, too. That leaves the first floor potentially safe, but we need to keep our wits about us. We'll all go floor by floor to check the place out, together to begin with, and then we'll work from there. Sound good?"

You all nod in agreement.

For a little bit after that, you're able to relax. You sit and sip your milkshakes, talking about this and that, poking fun at each other. It's nice being able to do so, to smile and laugh as if you're just regular kids, hanging out during the summer holidays like kids would've done so many years ago. You can pretend your rapiers and kit bags aren't there, replaced with rucksacks filled with snacks and games to play.

But the feeling is short-lived.

Soon enough, the train stops momentarily at a station, and you all file out, Lockwood leading the charge.

The fresh air, free of noise and air pollution, is incredible. You can smell freshly cut grass and a distinctly summer-like smell, and in the town that connects to the station, you can hear children squealing with glee. It should be lovely to be surrounded by such peace, but the taxi in front of you ruins it.

It's a big slab of black, with a young man in the driver's seat and, while it's different from the night cabs agents usually have to take, it makes you feel uneasy. This case is giving you a bad feeling, and this taxi is only going to take you closer.

It takes a lot of squishing for everyone to fit in the back of the taxi, but you manage eventually. Really, one of you should sit in the front passenger's seat - Lockwood - but the driver insists you'll all fit just fine.

"Ow, Lockwood, you're proper digging me into the door!" you grumble.

"I can't move! Lucy, shuffle over a touch."

"George is in the way!"

"Well, then, George, you move."

"I'm stuffed into the door, too! I can't move anywhere."

"Everybody comfy?" the driver asks. Before any of you even get the chance to reply, he says, "Good. Let's go. Where to?"

Lockwood shifts slightly, elbowing you in the ribs accidentally. "Elmview Estate, please."

The car jolts to a start, and suddenly you're whizzing down the roads at a speed that is probably illegal. You're not sure - you can't see the speed dial. Every twist and turn has you all jamming into each other, and multiple times you end up with Lockwood's elbow dug into some part of your body painfully. Yours does the same, but not every time is accidental, and Lockwood may have caught onto that fact.

If you were travelling a tad slower, you're sure the view would be beautiful as you leave the town and enter the countryside. The distant hills are a blur, and the trees move by so quickly they're but a blur of green. Once or twice, you pass groups of cyclists, and you're pretty shocked by the fact that the driver hasn't hit any of them.

To be honest, this guy's licence should probably be revoked.

But he gets you where you need to go. You reach the estate sooner than you should've which, at least, gives you more time to scope out the mansion. In a very strange way, you're all grateful for the guy.

"Don't tell anyone we were here," Lockwood says to the driver, handing him extra money.

"Gotcha. Stay safe, kiddos."

Then he's speeding off down the lane and out of sight.

George scoffs. "Kiddos. He's not even that much older than us."

Slowly, you all turn towards the house. It's a hulking beast of a thing, towering three storeys tall with massive windows on all floors. Balconies made of stone and wrought iron host beautiful flowering plants. A set of large white steps lead up to the large double doors, made from white metal of some sort and stained glass depicting some scene or another that, really, should be one of the most stunning things about the house. But it's smashed as though someone fell through it. Elm trees surround the house, bursting with green leaves that blow gently in the breeze.

"Lovely place," Lockwood says. "If it weren't haunted, I'd like to live here."

"You've nowhere near enough money," you remind him. "And what would you do with all the space? Imagine all the dusting you'd have to do."

"You sound like my mum," George grumbles. "Every time we used to pass a big house when I was a kid, it was: Oh, imagine all the dusting! I'd love to say I've got a mansion, but I'd hate the cleaning."

"I suppose that's why Yvette has maids," Lucy says, staring up at the house. "If you have the money to own a mansion, you have the money for hired help."

"This is all besides the point," Lockwood interrupts, although he's smiling. "We best get started, check out the house while it's light."

With a big, shared sigh, you all climb the steps into the house.

<- part 2 part 4 ->

[batrachised]

Annes of the World

thanks to @gogandmagog's lmm savvy, I'm hunting through the lm montgomery website and I found something really cool - Annes of the World. It shows Anne of Green Gable's covers from across the world, which of course I had to rate below!

Arabic

I love this cover because it's like a dreamy summer day - it really reproduces the haziness of summer, and the haziness of a daydream - very fitting for Anne! I also love Anne's body language here, it seems very Anne Shirley to me. I'll give this a strong 9/10.

Chinese

How CUTE is this!! While the drawing is darling (Anne Shirley would definitely sit by an open window nook to daydream), I need covers to commit to being covers personally. I'll rate this a 6/10.

Danish

This has strong Anne with an E vibes to me - kind of that gray tone. Also many many chickens?? I really want to know what the artist was thinking to where they read aogg and was like "you know what this cover needs...more chickens". Unfortunately I don't really like this - I think Anne's expression is odd, her body language is off, and the coloring is not my favorite. Green Gables isn't even green!! It's not even GREEN!! 5/10, with an added point for the Chicken Presence because I am a chicken stan.

Dutch

I find this cute, especially because the cover covers the front and back which I LOVE! I especially love how open it makes the scene, and Anne's curly hair is somehow perfect with this. Diana is giving me Maurice Sendak (think Pierre) vibes haha. I'll give this a 6/10.

Estonian

this gave me all the childhood flashbacks. I remember reading so many great illustrated classics (a tale of two cities, anyone?) and poring over the illustrations I liked. I'm really curious to know what the illustrations inside of the book look like now! The cover is beautiful, and I really like they draw the background brush. The only note I have - Anne's hair is NOT red in this, maybe i'm blind but it looks barely auburn. I'll give it a 7/10, teetering dangerously close to 6 because of the hair issue.

French

I have literally nothing to say other than this is the most French Anne I have ever seen and I love it. the SCARF. the BERET. 7/10.

German

I really love this one. I love the hat, the hair, and the FLOWERS. It really gives the homespun quality that LMM infuses in her stories a lot of the time. Not a huge fan of the Anne here, but the background feels like Green Gables to me, so it feels like home. :') 8/10 for the hominess.

Hebrew

lowkey OBSESSED with this one. highkey need this framed on my wall. I LOVE Anne's body language here. She's clearly daydreaming, and the baggage indicates that she's waiting for Matthew - you can also see the pensiveness in her face. Freckled and redheaded, daydreaming, check and check, alone and uncertain of the future, check. 10/10.

Icelandic

I like this one, especially Anne's grin. Also, again, is that a chicken?? Fascinated by the Nordic need to insert a chicken. 9/10 for being cute. I also love the white flower effect. Stops short of being 10/10 because Anne is wearing pink, and we all know Anne longed to wear pink but thought it didn't go with her red hair!

Italian

There is SO much going on on this cover. I like the flower crowns and the action shot, but looking at too long makes me go cross-eyed. Sorry to Italy, but this is a 3/10.

Korean

this is short sweet and to the point haha. Anne is daydreaming as the sun sets and a breeze ruffles her hair. cute, but again, I like covers that commit to being covers. 6/10.

Norwegian

Anxiously looked for a chicken and was disappointed. Tsk tsk tsk, Norway. This has old timey vibes in a way I like. The cover art is too small for me (see repeated complaints above), but I love the continued theme of Anne daydreaming while staring out a window. I give it a 7/10

Polish

This is simplistic in a way I like. It's a little girl setting off on her own towards a forest, with a home only noticeable on a second glance (at least to me). the little figure is very cute too, I like her little shoes and hat. The leaves look too jungle-y to me though for PEI, so I'll say a 6/10.

Slovak

Sorry to Slovak, but this doesn't seem Anne of Green Gables to me at all besides the leaves. This doesn't read like Anne to me, it just seems like a random girl. Bonus points for the puffed sleaves. The leaves are also barely there. 3/10.

Slovenian

I don't how to feel about this. I don't really like the coloring, but I do like how Anne directly gazes at the reader. Read my story. The coloring gives it an eerie horror movie effect (she looks like a drenched ghost child rising from a lake), so I'm going to have to give it a 3/10.

Spanish

THIS IS CUTE AS A BUTTON. And the Anne is cute as a button. I feel like i am AT the train station. I feel like I AM Matthew walking past an eager Anne. This one feels cinematic, probably due to a higher level of realism. I'll give it an 8/10.

Swedish

This cover just confuses me. WHO is in the background?? Who is that woman?? Why is Anne so dismal about her?? Why is Anne sulking about this dancing woman in the background (this reminds me of the silly song about the dancing cucumber). Also, Anne's eyebrows are barely there. I'll give this a 5/10 because I can't rate it one way or the other.

Turkish

This one makes me laugh because this looks like an Instagram deck. the way the face is drawn doesn't help. It's an insta pose, it looks insta filtered, the proportions seems weird like it's edited...yeah, this one is a no thanks. 3/10.

I think the Hebrew version wins in the end for me, but I'd love to hear others thoughts 👀

[aevallare]

tagged by @anosrepasi!!! i am only doing this for my main fandom account because the other one is between me and god <3

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

66

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

802,941

3) What fandoms do you write for?

currently bg3 is everything all the time. i've also written for mass effect, arcane, league of legends, dragon age, legend of zelda, fallout, kingdom hearts, stardew valley, and genshin impact

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1 - kindred (baldur's gate 3 - astarion/f!tav)

2 - insinuations (arcane - jayce/viktor)

3 - doctrine (arcane - jayce/viktor)

4 - celestial (arcane - jayce/viktor)

5. a sycophantic, prophetic, socratic junkie wannabe (fallout - deacon/f!sole survivor)

5) Do you respond to comments?

when i can!! i'm posting three multi-chapter fics simultaneously so it doesn't always work out lol

6) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

treason (fallout 4 - deacon/f!sole survivor) - sorry deacon lmao.

7) What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

i mostly write happy endings, but i think the happiest is probably doctrine because arcane s1 ended so sad that mine looks like a fairytale lol.

8) Do you get hate on fics?

haha

9) Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yeah. what kind don't i write at this point

10) Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

not really

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i've had whole fics stolen and concepts plagiarized

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes!! i've co-written with @caspercryptid and @the-neon-pineapple in the past and i hope to link up with both them and @dishsaop in the future. i will also be giving astarion TWO weed-smoking girlfriends with @again-please :3

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

never ask me this question again

15) What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i finish every fic i start nowadays

16) What are your writing strengths?

sheer word count lmfao

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

smut is by far the weakest part of my writing i think though it's been getting better since i've trial-by-fired myself with the white boy of the century

18) Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i did it in sycophantic a fair amount because clara is danish but i also speak danish fluently. astarion also speaks elvish sometimes in kindred but it's purposefully not understandable.

19) First fandom you wrote for?

fullmetal alchemist or naruto

20) Favorite fic you’ve written?

every fic i've ever written is my favorite i shan't choose between my children (i love you pour one out)

i'll taaaaag @dwarfsized @again-please @caspercryptid @the-neon-pineapple @p-inkbrush @commander-krios @kittenintheden and @cursedhaglette <3

[muqingswife]

how i think modern!aemond looks like

note: english is not my first language, im from brasil i speak pt br português brasileiro and im using the translator sometimes, sorry for my mistakes

lets goooo 😋

first off all, his family would remain a monarchy, maybe like danish royalty (i read somewhere that the Danish royals have more political power than the British royals or something like that, and i honestly cant think the Targaryens giving up any power that they could have) and here we DONT have incest (at least not the ones that would be shocking in our current society)!!!! read my thoughts below:

viserys didnt die yet and still being the king

daemon is viserys cousin so she can marry daemon with "no problem" and shes the heir of the iron throne

the line of succession to the throne would be: rhaenyra, jacaerys, lucerys, joffrey, aegon and viserys (idk whos the eldest), aegon, helaena, aemond and finally daeron

he knows he wont be king unless some catastrophe happens and kills his whole family but still a little bit jealous

aemond takes advantage of being the 9th in the line of succession, since he has very "few" spotlight on him, so he can live a normal life like all of us mere mortals

uses his prince title when needs something (that includes the girls 🤭)

think im done about the political part of his family so lets move on to physical appearance and hc about him and his relationship with family

aemond doesnt have long hair like in hotd, his hair is more like tom or billy (personally billy is my favourite)

ewan smile is so pretty i cant 😭

def wear an eye patch bc dont have one eye, obviously he dont lost his eye on a fight about claiming a dragon, but maybe he fell on a shard of glass or lucerys pushed him into a sharp rock which caused the scar and pierce his eye (my poor boy 😓)

ATHLETIC BOY!!!!! im talking about both body and style, ewan practically only wears adidas and aemond being a mama's boy, coming from two rich families buys everything that is adidas clothing

and you guys see ewan in world on fire and his new photoshoot like bro his muscles are heavenly 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 (só uma chance ewan, pfv 😭

aemond smokes A LOT, i mean aegon get drunk every week (if he doesnt do it every day 🤷🏻) and helaena has her bugs collection, so why he cant do something he likes and help him to destress?

for a 100% sure hes alicents favorite boy and daerons favorite brother

daeron probably just thinks his brother is the best in the world, the bravest, the most beautiful and everything a child can think of their big brother (he also thinks the scar on aemonds eye is really cool and when he was a child, like 4 years, he took one of his eye patches and put it to look like aemond

and about alicent, just look at their hair in hotd, those are the most hydrated hair of the entire series!!! ok joke, aemond was a quiet child, never gave her much trouble and was the first child she could call "her own child"

aegon would be to the realm if something happened to rhaenyra before she sire heirs and we all know how his temper is ☠️

helaena in my hc is autistic, some autistic people dont like other people touching them and helaena would be one these

as a child, she would reject alicents hugs and affections, in addition to being very difficult to communicate with her

contrary to all that, aemond was a perfect child, he would be glued to alicent 24/7, wanting her hugs, kisses and affection, his mothers affection.

she was his confidant when he was suffering and crying, she helped him with the school activities that he had difficulty, she was the one who stayed by his side in the hospital when he lost his eye

and aemond returned all the love his mother gave to him taking care of her and being the best at everything he did, just to make her proud of him

its aemond whos sitting next to alicent when she cries worried about being attracted to women and wipe her tears, she feels guilty for doing something that is said to be "wrong" in her religion (alicent para meninas, rhaenyra is her girlfriend canon

now leaving the sad mood aside lets go to more aemond's hc + dating hc

vhagar is aemonds lizard and she has a HUGE terrarium in his room with everything and more a lizard needs.

he is studying politics, international relations, history or philosophy in college

probably his girlfriend (me and you obvious) would be on one of these classes too or something like that

the BEST boyfriend ever, he is super respectful and treats his girlfriend like the princess she will be in the future when they get married

romantic dates would be to fancy places that nobles frequent, like operas and ballet but aemond would also take you to a museum, library, dinner at a super expensive restaurant you like and of course, skiing in the swiss alps

if you like a sport or did one, he would be super supportive and take you to every competition you wanted to see/gonna compete in

aemond would spoil you no matter if you have money or not

have you seen a prada bag online? it will be in your hands the next morning

did you make a comment of a swarovski necklace you saw at the mall? he bought the necklace and one more set of jewelry

are you undecided whether to buy a Chanel or Dior perfume? no problem, the two perfumes will be on your table when you get home

aemond would be very insecure about his scar and eye, and really wouldnt think himself worthy of you

but you are here with him to tell him how important he is to you, how handsome he is and how much you love him, when he heard you say that, all his insecurities would go away

and he absolutely LOVES that you touch his hair, massage, wash his hair and make mini braids on it

anything you do he loves 💗